


Broppy Prompt Oneshots [REQUESTS TEMPORARILY CLOSED]

by Introverted_Survivalist



Category: Trolls (2016), Trolls World Tour (2020), Trolls: The Beat Goes On (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Alternate Universe - Hospital, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Blood and Gore, Bullying, Canon Universe, Character Death, Cutting, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Kissing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Hurt/Comfort, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Bad At Tagging, Injured!Branch, Kissing, Matchmaking, One Shot, Requests, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:14:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 40
Words: 55,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23393845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Introverted_Survivalist/pseuds/Introverted_Survivalist
Summary: Just a bunch of your Broppy (Branch x Poppy) oneshots. Leave a prompt in the comments (AUs highly suggested) and I’ll write them for you!NEW UPDATE: A keeps on trying to get the attention of a very boring but hot cashier, B, at a McDonalds. [RagingCycloneZorch]
Relationships: Branch & Poppy (Trolls), Branch/Poppy (Trolls)
Comments: 727
Kudos: 239





	1. Request Box

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Trolls; I know I should be focusing on one fanfiction at a time, but I just got so caught up in this idea. Deal with it.
> 
> Leave your prompts in the comments below, and I promise I’ll try my best _not_ to disappoint.

** Hello! **

Please leave oneshot requests as comments so I can start writing!

** ATTENTION **

Requests are strongly advised to be posted on **Chapter One.**


	2. An ‘Accidental’ Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A accidentally hits B with a car and it turns out A is the only one who came to see B at the hospital.
> 
> Human/AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a tester oneshot with a prompt that I’ve had in mind for a while. Enjoy!

Poppy liked parties.

No, she absolutely loved parties. _Loved_ them with all her heart.

The booming music, the lights and the dancing—oh god, the dancing—the laughter and those fizzy drinks and alcohol. It always make her bubble with excitement, always so much _fun_.

Well, the fun was over for today.

“Catch ya later, Poppy!”

“See ya, Suki!”

It was just another normal Saturday night, a normal (and a rather wild) party, a normal drop-off at Suki’s place, and a normal drive in her BMW back home. And she was tired. Really, really, so very tired.

The streets were rather quiet—it was almost 2 AM, so Poppy decided that it was quite reasonable. Like, who would be out strolling about on a street of a boring neighborhood at 2 AM? Nobody. Ha.

Right?

Right.

Poppy flicked her headlights off. Her house wasn’t too far now, anyway.

Her fingers automatically moved to turn on the stereo, then to the radio station.

_“... thank you for the report, Sky, and now we’ll end today with a song, like always. Goodnight, Trollsville. This is ‘Memories’ by Maroon 5.”_

Totally her jam. Well, not in parties or outings or get-togethers, of course. But definitely when she was driving home after a long, long day of shopping and dining and partying—a silent cheer was necessary at this point.

_Here's to the ones that we got  
Cheers to the wish you were here, but you're not  
'Cause the drinks bring back all the memories  
Of everything we've been through_

“Toast to the ones here today, toast to the... mmm...” Poppy, only a few seconds into the song, decided to give up on singing along and resorted to just humming—she had only been introduced to the song recently, after all, and also, she was tired.

Streetlights ran by above her head as she drove, swaying slightly to the subtle beat. She just couldn’t _wait_ to go home, take a nice bubble bath and get into her fuzzy pink pajamas, then hop into her nice, soft—

Her car screeched to a stop and she lurched forward almost violently, slamming her foot on the brakes as her body smacked itself into the steering wheel, immediately bouncing back into her seat. Poppy couldn’t comprehend the confusion and terror she was experiencing at the moment—her heart felt like it had stopped for a short second before beating like crazy, thumping against her chest in panic.

Releasing a shaky breath, fingers still gripping the steering wheel tightly, she leaned forward slowly, fearing that her speculation might be confirmed after seeing what she was about to see—

A body was sprawled across the asphalt—she couldn’t tell who, of course—face down and limbs spread across the ground. Whoever it was, they looked... dead.

Oh hell no.

She had hit a person.

With her _goddamn car._

“Oh my goodness.” She hastily unbuckled her seatbelt and clambered out of her car after throwing the door open. Approaching the figure on the ground, she kneeled down and grabbed their wrist, checked for a pulse. When she found one, weak but still existent, she released a sigh of relief and grabbed her phone, tapping in numbers.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“Uh, yeah, I might have hit someone with my car. Please get here as quick as possible—”

And the radio, unbeknownst to the whole situation, continued to play the same music:

_Toast to the ones here today  
Toast to the ones that we lost on the way  
'Cause the drinks bring back all the memories  
And the memories bring back, memories bring back you_

____________________

“Um, excuse me?”

“Yes, miss?”

“I’m here to see the, uh... the guy who I almost ran over with my car yesterday—my name is Poppy Kingsley.”

“Are you here for Branch Woods?”

“If that’s his name, yes.”

“Ward 314, third floor.”

Poppy was never nervous when it came to hospitals. Even when she was young, she’d watch needles pierce her own skin with great interest, consider check-ups as games, take x-ray scannings with no problem whatsoever. She was totally fine with hospitals.

But when you had to go visit that one person you accidentally managed to hit with your BMW? Hell, she was freaking out. Poppy had never felt so sweaty in her entire life. His fingers fidgeted with the paper shopping bag packed with a bouquet of flowers and the vase she had brought along. And a get-well-card. A slight compensation for her faults minus the hospital charges.

“Branch. Huh. Weird name.” She muttered to herself as she pushed the button for the elevator—she knew she could have taken the stairs, but the elevator was on the tenth floor so she figured it would take much more time just to get to the third. Of course she was trying to stall.

When the elevator finally reached the third floor, she stepped out of the elevator and looked forward 314. “310, 311, 312, 313... 314!” Her eyes found the door for the ward she had been looking for, and there’s she was immediately reminded that she was about to go meet the one she almost ran over and killed.

“Okay. Deep breaths, Poppy. Deep breaths, c’mon. You can do this.” She shook her hands and her feet, trying to loosen her tense muscles. Her hands straightened her dress and she inhaled through her nose, fist hovering at the door—she knocked.

“If you’re here to stick needles into my arms again, so help me, you’re going to wish you’ve never been born.”

Huh. Pleasant first greeting from a stranger.

“Uh, I’m... I’m not a doctor.” Poppy called out, hoping she was loud enough for whoever was inside could hear her. “I’m the one who hit you with my car. I was hoping we could talk.” She held her breath and waited for either the person to tell he ran to scram or come in.

A long silence ensued, and Poppy was beginning to think that they had fallen asleep when a voice interrupted her long train of thoughts. “You’re free to come in.”

Carefully, she turned the knob and entered the room, and she was met with the fresh scent of mint leaves with a hint of lavender. Her eyes found a young man in patient attire sitting on the hospital bed stationed in the middle of the room against a wall, with charcoal hair and pale skin. And oh my god, he was hot. She had checked out some of her friends before, but this? This was _way_ hot.

“Hi.” She blurted out, standing in the doorway. “I mean, uh, hello. Darn it. Forgot those two mean the same thing—”

“I thought the normal thing people do when they first meet a guy whom they almost murdered with their car is apologize. Apparently not.”

“Oh!” Poppy mentally face-palmed her own stupid face. “I’m sorry for saying hi—no, I mean, I’m sorry for not saying sorry when I should have said sorry, I can’t, heh, really be sorry for saying hi, can I? And—”

“Excuse me?”

“—I’m sorry for almost running you over with my car, I swear I didn’t do it on accident. Of course, that would make me a total psycho, wouldn’t it? Haha! But yeah, I’m really really really sorry—”

“Excuse me.”

“—for almost killing you, hope I didn’t hurt anything too badly—I was on my way home from a party and I was so tired, and the radio was playing this really good song—”

_”Pinkie!”_

Poppy stopped rambling on about. “... Pinkie?”

“Your hair is pink.” The boy pointed out, expression devoid of any emotion but plain annoyance, as if already regretting letting her in. “And you haven’t exactly told me what I’m supposed to call you.”

“Oh! So sorry—I’m Poppy. Poppy Kingsley.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Poppy?”

“It’s no weirder than Branch, silly.”

“Don’t call me silly.”

With a giggle that rose up from her chest, Poppy made her way to the chair next to the bed and plopped down, dropping the paper bag onto the couch behind her.

“... Don’t look at me like that.”

“Oops, sorry—”

“Stop saying that you’re sorry.”

“Oh my god, so many requirements.” Poppy groaned and slumped in the chair, leaning against the backrest.

“Deal with them. You’re in my ward, and whether you go or stay is decided under the mercy of my whims.”

“Uh-huh, uh-huh.” Poppy then sat up once again and met the stranger’s eyes—they were so pretty. Who gave him the right to have such pretty, pretty eyes? “So, um. Are you okay?”

“Okay-ish.” He responded, not replying to her question with a sarcastic remark like she had expected. “Just a bit sore.”

“You didn’t break any bones?”

“A minor fracture in the ankle. No big deal.” He shrugged.

“... You know, I’m glad you actually let me inside—I was kinda worried that your family or friends might be visiting you and I didn’t want to interrupt anything.”

“That wouldn’t have been necessary.” Branch shook his head. “You’re actually the first person to visit me here.”

“... First?” The smile fell from her face and she immediately felt pity for the young man sitting in front of her. Nobody? How could nobody show up when either their son, brother or family was almost killed by a car at 2 AM on a Saturday night? “Branch, I...”

“Look, I didn’t say that to make you feel sorry for me or whatever.” He said quickly, looking away and averting her gaze.

“What about your parents? Siblings? Family?”

“Don’t have any.”

“... What do you mean?”

“Passed away. I don’t really have any relatives left.”

Poppy, biting her lip, set her hands firmly on her lap. “What about friends? Surely you have—”

“I _don’t_ —so stop asking questions.” He snapped, and Poppy flinched a little at the sudden outburst.

“I won’t.”

“Good.”

Silence followed, and Poppy had to clear her throat to break the tension. She was suddenly reminded of the gifts sitting right behind her. “Oh! I brought some stuff.” She reached over and grabbed the bag, setting it onto her lap. She pulled out the bouquet of flowers and the vase, placing it onto the bedside table. “I thought you’d like these because... who doesn’t like flowers?” She managed a smile.

“I don’t.”

“... You don’t?” The hopeful sensation in her heart died immediately—she was definitely doing a terrible job. A really, really bad job.

“Thanks anyway.”

She hadn’t really expected Branch to show any gratitude, but when he did, she felt the smile grow onto her face once more. “You’re welcome!” Poppy replied cheerfully. “And I made you this card too—I don’t wanna brag, but I’m an expert when it come to scrapbooking and crafts.” She proudly handed the young man the card and he opened it up with a flick of his thumb.

A small figure with pink hair—which was apparently supposed to be Poppy herself—popped up from the card along with cut-out paper rainbows and clouds, letters that spelled out ‘Get Well Soon’ in capital letters sparkling with glitter paper. “Huh. What a helpful talent.” He said rather slowly as he held the card in both hands which was currently spilling silvery glitter out onto the bedsheets from a small hole situated on the paper-Poppy’s mouth. “Definitely a skill that would help you graduate college and get a job.”

“Hey! I’ve already graduated from university!” Poppy said, nose in the air and arms crossed over her chest.

“Which one?”

“FYI, it’s UC Berkeley. Art major.” She put on a smug grin. “Can’t possibly beat me. I’ve got the brains _and_ the skilled hands.”

“Wanna bet?” A smirk slowly grew onto Branch’s face. “Which school do you think I went to?”

“Uh, I dunno. You tell me.”

“MIT. Engineering.”

Poppy’s jaw dropped open. “MIT?”

“What can I say? I’ve got the brains _and_ the skilled hands.” He flexed his fingers at her face.

“Oh my goodness, that is amazing! You gotta scrapbook with me sometime, you’d be great at it!” Poppy exclaimed, and Branch winced.

“Keep your voice down, geez. We’re at a public facility full of sick people, mind you.”

“I know, but I’m so excited!” She said with a wide grin. “And I’ll get to teach you everything I know! Boop!” Poppy reached over and booped him on the nose.

Branch swatted her hands away from his face. “Poppy! You do not touch strangers’ noses like that!”

“Strangers? We’re friends.”

“Wait, hold on. Are you telling me that if you hit a person with your car and come to visit them at the hospital, they automatically become friends?”

“Of course!”

“I’m starting to question your logic. And your sanity.”

“I’m perfectly sane!”

“You _do_ know that I’m supposed to be kinda mad at you for putting me in these stupid hospital gowns, right?”

“Who walks around streets alone at 2 AM?”

“Who drives their cars on streets without their headlights on at 2 AM?”

“... I was trying to save energy!”

“You’re too generous.”

“I’m paying for all your hospital charges, so I don’t think you have anything to say anymore.”

“I don’t think it’s even worth having this conversation at this point.”

“Look, I’m not going to listen to anything you say, I just know that this is going to be the start of a wonderful friendship!”

Branch groaned.

Poppy got to her feet and picked up the empty paper shopping bag. “I gotta go now, I promised my friends Satin and Chenille that I’d meet up with them at the mall. I’ll be back tomorrow, and we can have some proper bonding time!”

“Please no.”

“Goodbye, Branch!” She gave the young man a wide smile before exiting the room and closing the door behind her.

As soon as she was gone, Branch looked back at the card in his hands, and the glitter all over his fingers and the bed. A small smile blossomed onto his face—maybe he would actually look forward to seeing her.

She really ought to use less glitter, though.


	3. Of Pizzas and Friendship Bracelets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A is a pizza delivery guy/woman, and B orders a pizza. B keeps ordering pizza hoping to see A again.
> 
> Human/AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of the prompts given to me by harmonydove13. Thank you again! Here it is:

Pizza was fast food, and he very well aware of that. Normally, he wouldn’t really be wanting any pizza, especially at this time of the day.

But for some reason, he was craving pizza. So much.

“The nerve of me.” He muttered to himself for the third time, fingers pressing random numbers on his cellphone as he stared into the screen. “Ordering food from Pizza Hut at three in the morning.”

Fuck him and his weird night cravings.

He eventually found the number for the 24-hour Pizza Hut and waited for the other line to pick up. Probably sleeping on the job.

“This is Pizza Hut, how can I help you?”

Or maybe not.

“Yes, uh, I’d like a large pizza—plain cheese, no toppings.”

“Address?”

“6151 Linden Ave #3, Long Beach. How long will it take?”

“About ten minutes.”

After ordering his plain cheese pizza, Branch decided to pass time by watching some Netflix—tomorrow was a Saturday, so no harm in staying up late and binging on weird comedy shows. He wouldn’t admit it, of course, that he actually _enjoyed_ watching these stuff. He didn’t really want the world to know he had ‘feelings’.

As promised, the doorbell rung approximately ten minutes after he was into the first episode of the second season for _The Good Place_. Suddenly gratefully that he had the decency to walk around the house with pants and a shirt on, Branch tapped on the pause button and made his way to the front door, opening it.

“Hi there!” A completely overexcited, pink-haired girl wearing the signature Pizza Hut delivery clothes, hair tied up high into a bun, waved at him, pizza box in one hand.

“Hey, you’ll drop the pizza!” Branch pointed out and grabbed for the pizza with his hands, only to have it pulled away from his reach. With a groan of frustration, he stood at the doorway, brows knitted and hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“Don’t be so hasty, you should at least give me time to introduce myself!” The girl exclaimed excitedly, either not hearing or ignoring Branch’s mutters about it being 3AM and how most people keep quiet at that time. “I’m Poppy!”

“And I’m a McDonalds Happy Meal. Look, I thought you were here to deliver a pizza, not play icebreakers.”

“Sorry, sorry. I just really like meeting new people. That’s one of the things that makes my job so fun! The other reason is the smell of freshly-baked pizza.” The girl, Poppy, giggled and extended a hand. “That’ll be 8.49$—you can pay with either cash or credit card, your choice!”

Without a word, Branch handed her a ten dollar bill. “Keep the change.”

“Yes, this is perfect.” With a smile, she tuck the money into her breast pocket, handing Branch the pizza box along with the receipt. “But seriously? _Plain_ cheese pizza? That’s so _boring_...” She groaned and slumped against the doorway, making Branch stumble back and almost drop the goddamn pizza. “Why didn’t you add any toppings? Meat? Veggies? Oh, I know! Hawaiian. Ya know, the one with pineapples on top.”

“You actually had the guts to open my pizza box and look at what I’ve ordered? Some delivery worker you—”

“Pfft, don’t be silly, I looked at your receipt, dummy. What kind of person would I be to look into people’s pizza boxes?”

Branch had never felt so dumb in his entire life.

“Well, uh, why do you even care about what I order? It’s none of your business.”

“Well, you ordered the pizza from where I work, and my other friend—his name is Guy Diamond, by the way, you’ll love him, he’s the guy who picked up your call earlier—told me to deliver this pizza to you. And plain cheese is boring. Therefore, it _is_ , partly, my business.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

“Of course it does! Oh, wait, I brought something for you.” Poppy began digging into the pocket of her jacket, and while she did so, Branch managed to catch a good look at her face—and he had to admit (not out loud, that would have been embarrassing) that she was pretty. The bubblegum-pink hair and her bangs complimented her skin tone greatly, the light freckles dotted across her cheeks made her look cute, and that smile—oh fucking hell, what was he _doing_?

“Here it is!” Out of her pocket, she pulled out a pink, glittery plastic bracelet and handed it to him—he took it from her and noticed the golden letters printed onto the front of it: Poppy’s Best Friend.

“What is this?”

“It’s a present for my customers! You’re now one of my best friends.”

“This is not how making friends works!”

“Uh, pretty sure I just _did_ make a new friend.”

“I’m not your friend—let alone your best friend.”

“Well, face it—you’re my BFF now. And I really like you—maybe just try and be a bit positive for once. Smile a bit!”

Branch put on a rather large sarcastic smile. “There, smile! Are we done here?”

“I guess so. You tried, we made some progress.” He flashed her a pretty smile—ugh, did she have to be so pretty—and waved at him. “Good luck with your boring cheese pizza!”

After she left, Branch found himself sitting on the couch with the box of plain cheese ‘boring’ pizza sitting open on the coffee table, watching Netflix again. For some really weird reason, his mind kept wandering back to the pizza girl. Poppy.

He glanced towards the plastic bracelet he had left on the kitchen counter, the golden letters shimmering a little from the lighting above. With a sigh, he grabbed his third piece from the box and nibbled on the crust before allowing the cheesy goodness into his mouth.

Her hair, and her skin, and her pretty eyes—ugh, why couldn’t he stop thinking about her? Branch dropped the pizza into the box, grabbed a cushion, face-planting, and groaned loudly. He was being an idiot. _She_ was being an idiot. First time they meet, they’re best friends now?

“Weird people who don’t acknowledge stranger danger.” Branch muttered as he stared blankly into the screen, setting the cushion down onto his lap.

His hand reached for the phone again.

____________________

He opened the door to find the same pink-haired bubbly Poppy. He had been pretty sure she’d come again. “You ordered another one!”

“Thanks for stating the obvious, I was about to give you the benefit of the doubt.”

“One pizza ain’t enough? Yeah, I feel you.” Poppy shook her head with a chuckle as he handed Branch the pizza box. “I sometimes get this weird craving for wings when I’m home, and then I find myself ordering three buckets all for myself. And look! You got pepperoni this time. You’re one step closer to be being a better person!”

“Good to know. Uh, how much is it?” Branch opened up his wallet and fidgeted with the dollar bills tucked safely inside, all organized by alphabetical order and value. 

“Just 14.99$.” She replied and took the ten dollar bill and the five dollar bill from his hand, dropping a cent into his palm before he could pull away. “You know, surprising that you’re having so much pizza in the morning—” She peered into the room over his shoulder. “—watching Netflix. Binging on _The Good Place_ , huh?”

“Uh, yeah.”

_C’mon, you low-life coward! Say something, don’t be an awkward idiot!_

“Bye.” Feeling his cheeks starting to get hot, he closed the door before she could say anything else. Branch stood still for a while, holding the pizza box in both hands. He heard the sound of shoes shuffling on the ground outside before they faded into nothing—Poppy had finally walked off.

Branch set the unnecessary new pepperoni pizza onto the coffee table—he didn’t feel as starved for pizza anymore. He had something else on his mind. Watching Netflix didn’t seem as entertaining anymore either.

“I need another pizza.”

____________________

When the doorbell rang again, it was almost four in the morning—at this point, he was starting to get a little tired. But he just wanted pizza.

Yeah, definitely the pizza he wanted. Not the cute, pretty pizza delivery girl. Just the pizza.

Yup.

Branch slowly opened the front door only to be greeted by a big smile.

“Hey! I was just about to come back here on my own because I realized I never even got your name—what sort of best friend doesn’t know their own BFF’s first name?”

“We’re not best friends. And you’re just here to deliver the pizza.”

“I’m Poppy.”

“I know.”

“And you are?”

Branch released a heavy sigh. “Branch. It’s Branch.”

“Hey, Branch!” She handed him the pizza box in her hands. “That’ll be another 14.99$. Surprised to see you ordered a Hawaiian Luau.”

“I didn’t order that—I just told them to get me whatever.”

“Lucky pick, maybe?” Poppy hummed and gave him another one of those sweet smiles. Oh my god. She suddenly began bouncing with excitement.

“Oh, look, you’re wearing the bracelet I gave you! It looks so good on you!”

“I didn’t want it lying around the apartment.”

“Still, makes me feel pretty good about myself.” She then passed him the receipt as he handed over the dollars and coins. “Feel free to call when you want more pizza!”

____________________

Branch held the receipt in his hand, using his fingernails to draw lines into the thin piece of paper, three boxes of pizza—one open, the others not even touched—sitting on the coffee table. His hand tugged at the so-called friendship bracelet—did she do this to all of her customers?

Which didn’t make him special.

He flipped the receipt over, checking his order like he always did before catching a glimpse of words on the back, which was, of course, supposed to be blank. Branch squinted as he read.

209-265-1448

Call me whenever :)

Maybe he could give a shot at this ‘best friend’ thing.


	4. Drunk Or Not, I Don’t Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A accidentally breaks into B’s apartment because A is drunk.
> 
> Human/AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another prompt given by harmonydove13. Wish me luck!
> 
> **Warning:** this one has a bit of kissing and touchy feely. Oh, and a dash of sexual words. Nothing explicit, just words.

Branch had to admit—finally getting to move out of his grandma’s old house in South Carolina and living on his own in a small apartment in California while taking classes at a university didn’t sound so bad at first. He’d worried about the rent, but he reckoned he’d be able to pay everything off with a part-time job.

Unfortunately, the only job he could find around his place was a waiter at a diner, and as much as he hated it, it had to suffice. He had considered an internship, but then, he didn’t want to start off too big. And besides, he couldn’t really find a place that would possibly accept him. He was smart, and he was skilled, he could say so himself. But he worried too much. At least, that what others would say.

He’d learned a while ago not to trust others’ judgements.

The apartment he lived at wasn’t so great either. It had a pretty cheap monthly rent, that was good. But the rooms were cramped, the wallpapers were stained, and they still used freaking keys. Branch hated keys.

Today hadn’t been the best day. First off, he had accidentally left his keys at his apartment before going to work only to go back and find that the door was jammed (which proved how crappy the apartment actually was) which resulted in him using his neighbor’s scissors to force it open. It worked (another proof on how crappy the apartment was) until he realized that the scissors were completely ruined and he had to apologize and promise to buy them a new pair.

And at the diner, an old lady managed to spill her coffee all over his shoes—thank goodness it was iced, otherwise, he would have burned his feet. But having to work for the rest of the day in cold, soggy, coffee-drenched trainers wasn’t too much fun.

And just when he thought the ordeals for the day were over, Branch found himself staring at his own apartment door from the hall, which stood ajar and open at midnight.

Oh hell no.

Branch himself knew he wasn’t a person to leave his front door unlocked—he valued home security very, very, very greatly. Two locks installed on every single door inside, several nunchucks (he was really good with those) for self-defense, personal CCTVs he had managed to buy just in case of an intruder.

Of course, he had only considered the possibility of the intruder breaking into his apartment while he was _inside_.

Definitely not out, working his ass off and wiping maple syrup from dining tables for thirty minutes straight.

Branch pondered for a second over whether or not to call the police and have them inspect the place—but he didn’t want to stand out in the hall waiting for them to arrive (which could take a whole hour, who knew), and he definitely did _not_ want to be the first guy whoever broke into his apartment found.

This would not be the day he’d die.

And if he _did_ head in _now_ , at least he’d be ready.

With a cry, he ran in through the door and grabbed the nearest object he could see—a fuzzy slipper—and held it out in front of him like a weapon. “Show yourself, intruder!” His heart thumped inside his chest, he felt like he was about to burst.

And to Branch’s horror, he found the intruder sitting on his beanbag in the living room—

“Oh my god, Branch! Helloooooo!”

Yup. Poppy Kingsley, his unnecessarily cheerful neighbor next door. She was a lover of parties, singing, dancing, the color pink—well, all colors, actually—and having friends come over in the morning and making rackets. And she was annoying.

So, so, so annoying.

“Poppy? Why—how—Poppy, how the _fuck_ did you get in here? _Why_ are you in here?”

“Branch, Branch!” Poppy cried out excitedly as she waved her arms in the air, legs flailing. “I’m so so so so so so so glad that you’re here!” She stumbled onto her feet, staggered over and wrapped her arms around his torso before he could react.

He was seconds away from officially freaking the fuck out.

“Poppy, what’s wrong with you? How did you get in?” Panicking a little, he tried tugging at her arms to set himself free, but boy, was she strong. Her grip tightened around his chest and Branch felt like choking.

“Oh, Branch—” Poppy finally pulled away and held up a pair of dented, bent scissors, pulling them out from her pocket. The scissors he had borrowed from her, ruined, and given back. “This crowbar—”

“That’s not a crowbar.”

“—this crowbar,” Poppy repeated. “—helped me get into your room!” She held it up to his face and Branch grabbed it before she could poke his eye.

“That’s not a toy, nor a crowbar, it’s a pair of scissors—and don’t carry them like that, you could kill someone with it.”

“Shh, shush.” Poppy pressed a finger against his lips, effectively shutting him up. “Don’t say anything else.” 

Branch caught a whiff of alcohol from her breath—vodka. He knew she was good with liquor, but he had never expected her to break into his apartment drunk. 

He knew he should have installed more locks.

“You’re hot.”

Branch snapped out of his thoughts as he turned to look back at Poppy, who was now back to squeezing him to possible death by restricting his lungs. “Huh?”

“You’re so hot—” Poppy then released her strong grip around his torso and grabbed the front of his vest, pulling him close to her face. “Kiss me, Branch. Kiss me now.”

“No, Poppy, stop. You’re not thinking straight.” Branch grabbed her wrists and tried to pull them off. “Poppy, let go. You’re drunk.”

“No, Branch, I mean it. You’re so fucking hot—” Poppy Kingsley swearing? That was new. “—I can’t stand it. Every time I look at you, I want to kiss you and touch your abs—” Her finger traced down his torso over his shirt, and she giggled.

“The fuck, Poppy? No, stop— _don’t do that._ ” Branch slapped her hand but it seemed as if Poppy Kingsley was determined not to let go. He hoped it didn’t leave any wrinkles on his clothes.

Here he was, standing in his living room, lined against the wall by his pretty, drunk next door neighbor who was feeling him up, and the first thing he was concerned about was wrinkles in his clothes?

Maybe she wasn’t the only one who was drunk. He didn’t feel like he was in his right mind either.

“Branch, we have to make out.” Her eyes met his and with her lips slightly parted, Poppy began to stand on her toes to line up against his face. “We have to make out, right now. Kiss me, Branch.”

“Poppy, listen to me, you’re drunk.”

Before he could add anything else, Poppy, still holding him by the vest, dragged him over to the beanbag she had been sitting on earlier and plopped down, pulling him with her. “Branch, take me, here, right now—”

“Whoa, okay, too far—” He rolled off her and tried to scramble away, only to have Poppy pin him down against the ground on top of him. At this moment, he looked at her and again realized how beautiful she looked from this particular angle. “Poppy—”

But before he could continue, her ever-so-soft lips were on his, smashing against his own, and a blissful, warm sensation was spreading over his entire body and he _just couldn’t stop_. She tasted of cotton candy, and of course, strong vodka that pinched his nostrils. And she felt amazing.

Poppy Kingsley was kissing him and she felt so fucking amazing.

When she finally pulled away from him, Branch found her eyes, and as he stared he could feel himself become hypnotized by the changing and churning colors. She smiled at him and spots of gold danced in her irises and grew to swallow the various hues.

“I love you, Branch. I’ve loved you and I do and I always will.” She said, and Branch could find himself actually believing her, whether she was drunk or not. “You may be a bit grumpy, and you _do_ always refuse to come to any of my parties or whatever, but I want you to be happy. I love you so, so much, Branch.”

“... I love you too.”

And his hand found the back of her head as his lips found hers once more, finger tangling with her pink strands of hair.

It was only midnight, after all. And they had the apartment to themselves.


	5. Away From Cliché

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A is a quiet jock looking for a sport scholarship, and B is the adorable nerd.
> 
> Human/AU  
> Highschool/AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a prompt requested by Geekgirles! Thank you!
> 
> Here it is:

Branch Woods, to put it fairly simply, was a jock.

He wasn’t too buff, nor too skinny—he was fit, of course, and had just the right amount of muscle along with a body girls would drool over. Unfortunately, Branch Woods had never dated anyone, had never engaged in a single relationship—any girl who tried to ask the guy out would either have to stay at the nurse’s office for the entire day or run to the bathroom bawling their eyes out.

He didn’t really like playing sports as much as the other school athletes did—he only played for a sport scholarship. Soccer, basketball, hockey and football, the reason he did all this was for a full-ride scholarship to UND, University of Notre Dame. He would do anything for an easier life. Playing sports just seemed like one of the ways to achieve that. And to achieve it, he’d need to have no distractions whatsoever—it had to be just him and the field.

Probably why he didn’t really have any friends.

Of course, many students at school wanted to be his friend. He himself tended to be the one to push them off whenever they came to him. The answer would always be no, and the majority would eventually give up and stop trying.

All except for one.

“Hello, Branch!” She plopped herself into the desk next to him, fixing her pink-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. Softly humming to herself, she reached into her purple backpack and pulled out her DIY glitter notebooks along with her unicorn pencilcase—inside, packed as always, were neat rows of glitter pens of all different colors. 

Poppy Kingsley, future valedictorian of the class, super outgoing, loud, annoying know-it-all who thought everybody—literally _everybody_ —in the school was her friend. When she should know that they clearly weren’t.

“Kingsley. What a pleasant surprise.”

“Awe, thank you.”

And also someone who didn’t know how to compare genuine speech and sarcasm.

“So... Branch. How was your day?”

“You _do_ acknowledge the fact that school started only ten minutes ago, right?”

Poppy Kingsley shrugged with that cute smile of hers. “Every second counts as today.”

Branch’s eyes found the colorful highlighters and glitter pens spread across the table in a straight line, her notebook open, pages embellished with drawings of little cupcakes and clouds with rainbows, along with kittens and unicorns, lines under colorful words and circling straight-lined graphs. “How do you find the time to draw while you take your notes?”

“I don’t draw in class, duh. I draw at home after reviewing my notes. It’s part of my routine.” She grabbed a smaller notebook and showed it to him—it displayed her schedule, once again decorated with glitter and rainbow-colored stickers. ‘We Can Do It’ in golden cursive was written on the top right corner.

“Do you _have_ to use so many colors? They’re hurting my retinas.”

“Colors are what make the notes so vibrant and pleasant for the naked eye.” Poppy Kingsley said rather proudly, setting her schedule down. “My friends all say that they’re pretty and nice to look at.”

“Well, it’s not really as pleasant for my eyes.” Branch muttered and turned back to the front of the class, regretting even responding to the girl’s greeting in the first place. Okay, he had to admit, Poppy Kingsley was nice and all—but she could be a little too much. A little too much for _him_ , anyway. Others actually seemed to endure her. He had always thought she was pretty cute, deep down, of course. He never let it show.

Finally, the class began, and off went Poppy Kingsley answering every single question with the confidence Branch Woods wished he had.

____________________

Poppy Kingsley loved P.E.—not because she could run laps on the tracks while sweating like crazy, no, she hated that—but because she could watch Branch Woods play football on the field while he looked super hot, holding the ball and seconds away from getting his team another point.

“Poppy! What are you doing? Get your laps done!” One of the female athletes of the school, although a bit short, Cassie Miller, called out to her as she ceased to a stop, bouncing in place. Everyone called her Smidge.

“No, but I... my ankle hurts today.”

“That’s what you say every time you wanna sit there and ogle at Woods.” Smidge pointed out as she plopped herself down on the bleachers next to Poppy Kingsley.

“Ogle? Pfft, no, I don’t... do that.” Poppy blurted out, dropping her notes onto her lap. “I definitely don’t check out my friends because they’re really hot when they play football.”

“You’re making this whole thing really obvious right now.”

“Ugh, Smidge, you’re confusing me.” She muttered and pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and hugging them tight. “Branch is a friend.”

“ _Poppy—_ ”

“Okay, fine! Branch is hot.” Poppy finally cried out and buried her face into her arms. “What’s the point anyway, he never dates girls. It’s not like he’s even interested.”

“You’re right, he’s not.”

“Smidge, don’t make me feel worse than I already—”

“Which is why you need to take the first approach!”

Poppy frowned. “Huh?”

“If he isn’t gonna come to you, you might as well make him do so. You know how cute boys like him are so easily manipulated.”

Poppy lifted her head to look back at the field, where the players were dispersing after finishing their game. Branch Woods, far apart from all the other boys, sat at the bench underneath the tree, helmet set beside him and hands holding a small book. “Uh, I dunno. I can’t—”

“Poppy, you know you can do it. I believe in you, girl.” Smidge gave her a light tap on the back before hopping off the bleachers and back onto the tracks. “Go, Poppy!” She called out loudly, pumping her fists in the air and running off.

____________________

Branch wasn’t a big fan of crowds or company—to be honest, he liked being alone. Alone and quiet, that was all he wanted, and all that he could ask for.

“Branch.”

Interrupted by that sweet, pretty voice of a frickin’ angel.

“... Poppy Kingsley.”

When he lifted his head from his book, he found the said girl standing a few feet away from him, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. “Hi.”

“Hey.”

“I, um, I brought you a refreshment.” Poppy said, handing him a bottle of Gatorade. “Figured that you’d want to drink up, so...”

He hesitantly took the bottle from her and then suddenly realized how parched he was—he hadn’t really thought of how exhausted his body was supposed to be after all that running in the hot sun. “Thanks.” He popped the lid off and guzzled half of it down at once, and through his peripheral vision, he could see the proud smile on Poppy Kingsley’s face.

When he decided that he had had enough Gatorade in his system, he lowered the bottle and screwed on the lid. Setting it down beside him next to his helmet, he found herself looking back up at the girl. “What brings you here?”

“Oh, you know. Just wanted to talk.” She slowly approached Branch and plopped down on the bench beside him, and for once, he didn’t protest.

“Just to talk? I was kinda in the middle of reading...”

“Oh, sorry, I’ll guess I’ll just—”

“You can stay. As long as you don’t talk too much.”

Silence ensued, only sounds distant voices of students far away.

“Branch?”

“Yes, Kingsley?”

“Why do you tend to be alone?”

“Well,” He said. “... being alone lets me think. And it’s quiet.”

“What do you usually think about?”

“About my future. Past. What passed and what will come.” He never remembered being this truthful with anyone after the death of his parents—it had been quick and rather sudden, and he thought he learned to pass on.

Apparently not.

“Branch.”

“Yes, Kingsley?”

“You know, I can be annoying, and loud, and a little stir crazy at times...” A nervous chuckle escaped her throat. “... but I’m your friend. You can always talk to me.”

“... Thanks, but... you wouldn’t want to be friends with me. I’m what people call a human bad luck charm. People around me end up getting hurt.”

_Just like what had happened to everyone else._

Poppy Kingsley shook her head. “You’re not. I don’t care if you’re a bad luck charm, I know I can make things right.” She slowly got to her feet, gave Branch Woods a small smile. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?” And then she leaned forward, kissed his cheek, and walked away.

It had happened so fast that he barely acknowledged what happened after she disappeared from his side.

Poppy Kingsley had kissed him. And... it had felt rather nice.

Branch swallowed and picked up his book, opening to the bookmarked page and setting it onto his lap. He had seen and experienced many things in life, but today, he’d seen a new side of Kingsley.

Yeah, he’s definitely talking to her later.


	6. How to Deal With Sarcasm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A asks B if they love them, B answers with a sarcastic comment and A starts crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s another prompt requested by Geekgirles. This one might be a bit short.
> 
> And I also felt like writing this prompt within the Trolls canon version, sorry if you expected otherwise.

Branch was known for his sarcasm.

Yup. His sarcasm.

Of course, after getting his colors back, Branch changed—less grumpier, a little more singing and dancing, more days out in the sun along with a dash of smiles. Poppy loved the new Branch, not that she hadn’t liked his old personality. She liked that he was just more easier to talk to.

But of course, his sassy snapbacks got in the way at times, and it sometimes lead to scenarios where he’d make someone either cry or snap, and Branch himself would have to be lectured by Poppy on how he should keep his sarcasm to a limit—since most of the trolls in the village weren’t too familiar with the whole thing.

But despite all that, Poppy absolutely loved Branch, and she would always find herself wanting to spend time with him, talk with him, sing with him and boop his nose—although she didn’t really do that since it had been her thing with Creek.

Poppy didn’t miss Creek. Deep inside, she _did_ feel sorry for him (in a way) but she knew she could never find it in her heart to forgive the troll. He had managed to hammer the last nail into their coffin, and she didn’t appreciate that one bit.

It was better to say that she wanted a new start. Too late now, wasn’t it?

“Poppy? Earth to the queen?”

“Huh?” Poppy snapped her head to the side, and was surprised to see Branch staring right at her. “Branch, you scared me.”

“Sorry, you were kind of spacing out. And also, I’ve been standing here for almost ten minutes, telling you about your agenda for today—wait, don’t tell me you haven’t been listening—”

“Oh, Branch, I’m so sorry—I was thinking of something else.” Poppy managed an apologetic smile. “Forgive me?”

Branch released a long groan and rolled up the leaf stating the list of her queen duties. “Sure... you’re forgiven.” He said with a chuckle and a shake of his head.

It wasn’t the first time Poppy had zoned out and started daydreaming like this. It happened every so now and then, her eyes suddenly going a bit misty and her pupils becoming unfocused, who knew what was going on in her head—but Branch thought it was cute.

It was Poppy, everything she did was cute.

“Awe, c’mon, Branch. You know you love me.”

“No, I don’t.” Branch replied with a smirk on his face, watching her with his arms crossed over his chest.

Big mistake. At that moment, Branch himself had forgotten that no troll but him knew how to tell apart sarcasm from normal speech. Poppy wasn’t so great at that, and he was immediately reminded when the cute smile dropped off her face and was replaced with a pained, ‘I’m-on-the-verge-of-crying-and-nobody-can-stop-me’ look.

“... You d-don’t love me?”

“No no no no no no no, don’t cry, don’t cry, I didn’t mean it, I was being sarcastic—” Panicking a bit when a sob escaped her throat, Branch shook his hands in front of him and slowly walked up to her. “Of course I love you.” His arms wrapped around Poppy’s smaller form and he rubbed circles onto her back, just like his grandma used to do for him to calm him down.

“But you said—”

“You know how I am with sarcasm, Poppy. I’m sorry.”

“So you didn’t mean it?”

“Of course I didn’t, why wouldn’t I love you?”

Poppy finally stopped crying and she pulled away from their embrace. And oh my god, Branch looked at her red eyes and pout on her lips and realized how cute she was. He couldn’t help but let a laugh escape from his throat.

“You’re so adorable.”

“And you’re such a meanie—you made me cry.” Poppy lightly punched him in the chest (which hurt a bit, ow) and threw her arms around his torso, wrapping him into another hug.

Just then, their hug time bracelets went off, and the village was soon filled with different toned chimes. Upon hearing it, Poppy squeezed him a bit more tighter.

“Hug time.”

Yeah, she _was_ adorable. The most adorable, sweetest, most beautiful troll in the village, and Branch knew he could never say otherwise.


	7. I Think You Have the Wrong Number

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prank calls someone, and then A realized that they accidentally called their crush B.
> 
> Human/AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt given to me by harmonydove13.
> 
> Enjoy!

Prank calls were a tradition at Suki’s sleepovers—whenever the girls gathered up at her two-story mansion for a slumber party, they’d all take turns prank calling somebody using Smidge’s old cellphone, and while one of them would try to talk like a normal human being without bursting in laughter, the others would bury their faces into pillows and die trying to stifle their giggles.

Of course, one of them would eventually suffer the inevitable fate of endless laughing and because of how contagious those sort of laughs were, they’d have to end the call and roll around for hours and stop thinking that everything they saw was funny.

“Okay, prank call time, gang! Who’s going first?” Suki held up the old, battered cellphone and tossed it into the middle of the circle.

Nobody reached for it.

“C’mon, guys! We gotta prank call _somebody_.” Suki complained and sat up, putting on her fuzzy purple bunny slippers. “How about Harper?”

“I wanna save mine for last.” Harper said with a shrug. “Or at least second from last.”

“Fine. Smidge?”

“Suki, I don’t even know who I’m gonna call—I’m going to have to decide between either Subway or Chipotle.”

“We’ll give you some time. Poppy?”

“Mm...” Poppy considered the option for a while before speaking. “I was going to say the same thing as Harper, but I guess having a first good laugh wouldn’t hurt.” A smirk grew onto her face as she took the cellphone, skipped to the keypads to type in a number. She picked up her own iPhone and started scrolling through the contacts.

“Ooh, crush with three hearts? Who’s that, Poppy?” Poppy had failed to notice that Smidge had been peering into the screen of her phone, and her cheeks immediately went red.

“You don’t need to know, Smidge.”

“C’mon, Poppy, tell us! Is it Braaaaaaaaannnnchhhh?”

“Smidge!”

“Woman up, Poppy! Tell us who the lucky guy is!” Suki exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air excitedly. “Or else we’ll have to—” Ignoring the sharp cry elicited from Poppy herself, Suki swiped the iPhone from her fingers and got to her feet, holding it out of her reach. “—call your ‘crush’ ourselves and find out!”

“Fine, fine, fine! It’s Branch, okay? Give it back!” Poppy scrambled to her feet and jumped, managing to take her phone back with some effort. She hugged it to her chest, scowling and face flushed red. “Just don’t do that.”

“Secret’s finally out! Oh, we _have_ to—”

“You know what? How about we just get back to prank calling and acting like idiots?” Poppy, effectively shutting down whatever Smidge was about to say. Fortunately for her, the change of subject had worked, and the girls were soon crowded around Poppy.

“Well? Who’s it gonna be?”

“Mr. Hooker—the math teacher.” She smiled to herself as she scrolled down her phone and found the number, name labeled Z.M. Hooker (who was known as a total pain in the ass). With her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth, she tapped in the numbers.

“What are you gonna say?” Harper asked, and Poppy looked up from the old cellphone right before tapping in the last number.

“Just wait and see, it’s gonna be the greatest prank call in the history of prank calls.”

She typed in what she remembered to be the next number and put the device on speaker phone. The steady ‘brr’ from the phone as the call connected, waiting for the receiver to pick up, seemed to proliferate the tension. Everyone held their breaths, waiting.

And just when Poppy glanced towards her phone to see if she’d entered the number correctly, her whole world seemed crashing down onto her like a goddamn tide.

“Oh, no.” She said out loud. “Guys, I have to end the call.” Before she could hit the end call button, Smidge took it away from her and held it away at arm-length.

“C’mon, Poppy, don’t be such a coward, it’s just a simple prank call! Where did the earlier confidence go off to?”

“No no no no no, you don’t understand, I have to—”

“What’s to freak out about? It’s too late now, he’ll be picking up the call any sec.”

“That’s the point! I typed in the wrong number!”

“Well, we’ll just prank call whoever it is, no big deal. We do random numbers all the time.” Harper pointed out.

“No, I—” Poppy groaned loudly. “—I entered Branch’s number instead, Mr. Hooker and his number are one digit different! I have to end it before he—”

_“Hello?”_

Oh fuck.

She had never felt so dumb, embarrassed, and anxious her whole life. How could she miss that one simple number? Why did their phone numbers have to be _one_ goddamn digit different from each other? _Why_ did she have to have a big, mega crush on Branch Woods, the hottest boy in the entire school?

_“... Hello? Is anyone there?”_

“Um...” Oh god, that sexy voice. Poppy squeezed her lips shut, her heart thumping against her chest, her cheek she suddenly burning warmer and warmer. Was it getting hot in the room? Probably. It totally wasn’t because she was a nervous wreck.

She really needed to stop denying things.

_“Who is this?”_

“It’s... me?” Amazing job, Poppy. Really. _Me_. How accurate.

_“And who’s ‘me’ here?”_ He didn’t sound so amused.

“It’s... oh my god, I’m sorry.” Poppy mentally face-palmed her stupid face, fingers, fiddling with her glow-in-the-dark bracelet. She wanted to end the call right now so bad, but her dad had constantly reminded her that she should never end calls first without a proper greeting because apparently that would be rude.

Ugh, she was raised too well.

_“Is this supposed to be some sort of joke?”_

“Well, actually, yes. Yes it is.” The words rushed out of her mouth like water spewing out of a burst pipe, her lips ran almost like a motor and she couldn’t stop herself from saying stupid things.

_“I think you have the wrong number.”_

“Yes I do.” Real smooth.

Poppy lifted her eyes to find three pairs of wide eyes staring up at her, all of their hands clasped over their mouths to keep themselves from bursting into a fit of giggles. Suki, out of all of them, nodded as if telling her to go on.

_“Well, then, can I end the call? I really need to get back to what I was doing.”_

All three frantically shook their heads.

“No!” The word flew out of her mouth before her brain worked, and she froze, biting her own tongue. Did she just _have_ to scream and make herself look more like an idiot.

_“I thought you said you had the wrong number.”_

“I do! I do, but... at the same time, I did want to call you, but I also didn’t. Like, I didn’t mean to call you, but maybe I was going to call you someday, maybe like ten years later? I mean, you _are_ in my contacts, and you _are_ actually super hot, so I—”

_“Wait, I’m in your contacts? Are you someone from school?”_

“I...” As realization on what she had rambled on about on the phone dawned over her, she actually began to panic real bad. “... _maybe_?”

_“Alright, I’m not playing games here—who are you, and why the hell are you calling me at two in the morning?”_

_He even sounds hot when he’s intimidating._ “Well, right, uh, about that... oh, look at the time! I gotta go.”

_Shit shit shit shit shit, end the call already, end the call—_

_“Wait.”_ A pause. _“Poppy, is that you?”_

Hearing this, she slammed her finger onto the red call ending button, threw the phone onto the bed and buried her face into the bedsheets sprawled across the floor, muffled screaming resonating inside the room.

“... I’d say that went pretty well.”

“ _Smidge!_ ”


	8. Carpe-Fucking-Diem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A is the town’s sweetheart and B is the ‘bad boy’ (who really isn’t all that bad). A wants to introduce B to their dad.
> 
> Human/AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another amazing prompt suggested by Geekgirles!

They both didn’t know how they got together. It just kind of happened.

It had started out rather simple at the beginning—Poppy Kingsley moved into town with her father, the new mayor, and was adored by everyone she met. And then she happened to accidentally encounter Branch Woods, typical ‘bad boy’ of Kennedy Highschool.

He had been rough on the edges at first—not to mention _looked_ rough as well. His attire always consisted of leather jackets, ripped skinny jeans, and combat boots. And his clothes, always a mixture of dark red and black. Branch Woods used to smoke a bit back then, not too much, but not too little either. He stopped after meeting Poppy.

Despite his rather cold demeanor and grumpy, aloof attitude, Poppy learned that he wasn’t really at all ‘bad’. It was a mask, a shell and an outer exterior to shelter what he really was. Truth was, Branch was an actual softie. The softest, cutest, hottest boy Poppy had ever seen, and she absolutely adored him.

Soon, Branch confessed his feelings towards her—the way he had done it was adorable, blushing like crazy with the soles of his boots scraping across the ground, head dipped down as he said what he had to say—and she told him she felt the same.

Starting from that day, the town’s sweetheart, daughter of the mayor, and the actually-soft-bad-boy began dating.

Since then, Branch had managed to open up a little, got rid of several unhealthy habits (for Poppy, of course), but he still kept his reputation the same. It was his way to protecting himself from unnecessary hurt—but when Poppy was clinging onto him cooing how _cute_ he was, he melted in front of her.

To him, everything was going so, so well.

“Branch, I think it’s time I introduced you to my dad.”

_Until now._

“Y-your dad?”

“Yeah, my dad.” Poppy gave him a sweet smile, clasping her hands behind her back.

“He doesn’t know we’re dating?”

“Oh, he knows we’re dating.” She replied with a chuckle, looking down a brief second to fix the strap of her dress over her shoulders. “He just wants to meet you, maybe sit down and have a talk, man-to-man.”

“What if he disapproves of me as your boyfriend?”

“He’s not gonna do that, Branch—my dad’s a really nice guy. He always takes me fishing at the big lake on Sundays, and we have movie nights on weekends, too! You’ll love him!”

“Poppy, I’m. Your. _Boyfriend_. Dads, in general, do not like their daughter’s boyfriends!”

“Branch.” Poppy said softly and took hold of his hand, their fingers entwining as she gave him a little squeeze of reassurance. “It’s gonna be alright. I’ve been planning this for quite a while, I just want the two most important men in my life to make acquaintances. Just be yourself.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat—if he acted like ‘himself’, Mayor Peppy would definitely hate him, let alone have Branch as his precious daughter’s boyfriend.

He suddenly regretted deciding to wear his ‘Carpe-fucking-diem’ shirt. Without it, maybe he could have made a better impression.

Too late now.

Almost in defeat, Branch let his girlfriend drag her all the way over to her house, trying to calm his nerves before he faced the inevitable—and when it came to Poppy, everything was inevitable when she insisted upon something. He had been to her house several times (when her dad wasn’t there) and he remembered hanging out with her, TV and photo albums mixed with some sweet kisses. But knowing that Poppy’s father was inside made the structure in front of him look so much bigger.

When Poppy pulled him in through the front doorway, what he hadn’t expected was to come face-to-face with Mr. Kingsley. He froze and managed to hold back an embarrassing squeak. The man glared at him, and he gulped. His hands clenched and unclenches at his sides. This was _not_ happening.

“Dad! Geez, you scared me.” Poppy giggled, unbeknownst to the tension between the two. “Well, dad! Meet Branch. Branch, my dad.”

“Nice to meet you... Branch.” His voice was high on edge, Branch could tell—the way he spoke sent shivers up his spine—or was that just him? Either way, he didn’t really like it.

“Pleased to meet you too, sir.”

“You know what, guys? Why don’t we all just sit and talk? I’ll get us some coffee.” Poppy said, peeking up, and before Branch could stop her, she hurried into the kitchen.

Which left him all alone with Poppy’s father, also the mayor of the whole city.

The old man looked him up and down, at his attire and his hair, and Branch couldn’t help but clear his throat in utter nervousness. Finally, Mr. Kingsley’s eyes met his, and he tried to keep a straight face.

“I don’t like the looks of you, boy.” He muttered, and Branch didn’t say anything. What could he possibly say to that? The leather jacket and the boots must have given it away. And the choker. He quickly made a mental note to discreetly remove it later on, but he knew it wouldn’t really make a difference if Mr. Kingsley had already seen it. Impressing him seemed impossible now.

All he could mutter was a quick ‘sorry’ before a simple nod from the man, obviously telling him to sit at the table, made him fast-walk over to the dining room. Her father sat right across from him, almost glaring at him with something that seemed like pure hatred. The staring contest seemed to go on and on, and right before he could burst into a panic attack, Poppy appeared from the kitchen with a tray of biscuits and mugs full of coffee.

“Poppy.” He exhaled a breath he realized he hadn’t been holding and couldn’t help but let a small smile grow onto his face.

“Aye, you two are already all settled down.” She said with a wide smile and set the tray down, taking a seat beside Branch—in return, Mr. Kingsley’s brows narrowed, not really seeming to like his daughter beside him.

“So, Branch. Tell me. What are you good at?”

“Well, I...” He was good at several things. But would saying all of them make him look a bit self-centered? Would he have to say at least two? Maybe three maximum? He was surely getting a migraine after all this.

Fortunately for him, Poppy’s face lit up and a smile grew onto her face. “Oh oh oh, Branch is good at so many things.” Branch glanced over to see if Mr. Kingsley didn’t like Poppy speaking for him in his place, but surprisingly, seemed like he was willing to let her continue. “He is _such_ an _amazing_ poet! He wrote a bunch of poems for me, dad—and they’re all really beautiful. He even won a national contest and got first prize!”

“Poems, I hear? What else?” It seemed as if the (maybe exaggerated, maybe not) praises from Poppy hadn’t been enough.

“He can also fix stuff well. And he’s very smart.”

“I, um, have an interest in architecture and engineering. It’s what I’m planning to study on later.” Branch said, making sure that the man understood that ‘fixing stuff’ wasn’t his only talent.

“Which university do you plan to go to?”

“I _do_ need to save up more money, but... I’ve always wanted to go to Stanford.”

“At least you have a practical goal in life. Unlike that Creek boy from two years ago.” The mayor muttered under his breath, and Branch felt a bit more relieved.

“Dad, please don’t bring up Creek here, Branch is my boyfriend now.” Poppy quietly pleaded, latching onto Branch’s arm. Whoever this ‘Creek’ was, he hated already, but he was glad to at least be compared to him and feel more superior. But of course, he was still a complete nervous wreck.

“Well, Branch—where does your father work?”

Poppy visibly stiffened at the question, but before she could open her mouth to answer for him, Branch opened his mouth first. “My parents passed away a few years ago. I still have my grandmother, but she has cancer.”

“Oh.”

He could immediately feel the pity coming from Mr. Kingsley, and he managed to keep his mouth shut before saying that he didn’t need any. It was a habit of his, telling others the exact same thing when he was forced to tell them about family relationships.

“Dad, how about we stop with the questions?”

“Poppy, excuse me, sweetheart, can Branch and I have a talk?”

“Oh, right. Sure.” It was hard to deny that Poppy looked a little upset to be left out, but she got up from her chair and disappeared from the dining room—Branch was glad to see that she understood, but couldn’t help but feel much more nervous now noticing that he was again alone with Poppy’s father.

_Have to give a good impression, have to give a good impression, have to give a good impression..._

“Branch.”

“Yessir?”

“Can you prove how you can be a good boyfriend for my daughter?”

Oh. The question of the day, the final inquiry. “Well, um...”

“Is that it?”

“No, no, the question was a bit sudden, that’s all.” Branch admitted before taking a deep breath. “Before Poppy came along, I gotta be honest, I was a mess. My parents’... passings hadn’t really been too easy, and I changed. My reputation wasn’t too nice, either. But I tried to help myself. I started writing poetry, tried inventing and art. I began learning to see what people were on the inside rather than their exterior. I tried to get better. And then came your daughter. To be frank, I never thought I could be with someone like her. Poppy, she’s perfect. She’s sweet, she’s caring, she always sees the best in people. Saw the best in me.

“And I could see through her, too. She’s outgoing, she’s friendly, and she’s... all those amazing things because she likes helping others. She wanted to help me, and I accepted the offer. And from then, I strived for Poppy. I lived for a year thinking that she would be the one who’d be my motivation. I stopped trying to be bad in front of others, started to look for what I wanted to do. Draw out the map for my future starting from my past and present. I can’t tell how much I owe her, your daughter is the most wonderful girl I’ve ever seen in my life.

“So, I guess what I’m trying to say is...” Branch exhaled shakily. “... that I can be a good boyfriend for Poppy because I see what’s inside her. I don’t care about her looks, or her wealth, or how smart she is—I love Poppy for who she truly is on the inside. I love every single aspect of her personality, and it would be a waste for whoever likes her for other reasons to not see her that way.”

The man didn’t say anything for quite a while, and Branch had started to think he had done something wrong before Mr. Kingsley gave him a firm nod. “Wise words, boy. You really are a poet. You speak from the heart, and I like that. Just letting you know—if you hurt my daughter in any way, I will have to deal with you myself.”

“Yessir.”

Poppy then popped up from behind the corner a smile on her face. “Hey, so how did it go?”

It was quite obvious that she had been listening to everything that had been said, and Branch couldn’t help but smile as well. That was his Poppy.

“I’ll give you two some space.” As soon as Poppy’s father was no longer in the same room, Poppy rushed over and hugged his neck from behind.

“I love you so much, Branch.”

”You were eavesdropping the whole time, weren’t you?”

”You know me so well.” 

“I love you, too, Poppy.”

And that was the truth. The complete truth, and Branch didn’t think otherwise. He was still pretty shook about having to meet his girlfriend’s dad, but it was over now, at least. And the mayor himself had approved.

He still didn’t know how things turned out to be like this, but he was glad they did.


	9. Away From Cliché: Pt.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pt2. of Away From Cliché.
> 
> A is a quiet jock looking for a sport scholarship, and B is the adorable nerd.
> 
> Human/AU  
> Highschool/AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a sequel for 'Away From Cliché' suggested by Geekgirles!

The word spread around the school like a wildfire—Branch Woods, the most mysterious and unapproachable hot jock was officially dating the school's most adorable nerd, Poppy Kingsley.

Branch didn't really like being part of rumors and news around his highschool, he had learned that from the worst experiences. The latest fake rumor had been that Branch owned a limo and that he had ten bodyguards that dropped him off at the local bowling center on weekends.

He hoped whoever had the guts to make those rumors went to hell. But nonetheless, he was still happy to be with Poppy, and did not regret his decision one bit.

Poppy Kingsley, meanwhile, was completely ecstatic to be dating Branch. She had never thought that she, the all-day albatross and the happy, outgoing prep student, would eventually get together with someone like him. And she was glad that she did.

"Poppy, Poppy!" A familiar voice interrupted her thoughts and Poppy Kingsley looked up from her notes to find her friend Smidge running towards her. When the shorter girl reached her, she stared up at Poppy with wide eyes.

"Are you really dating Branch now? It is offish?"

"Smidge, shh, keep your voice down, we don't want to draw attention." Poppy said, glancing around to see if anybody had heard. Some had, but they soon returned to whatever they were doing and she could then relax. "Yes, he gave me a call last night, we made it official. Who told you?"

"Uh, Guy Diamond? The guy from Art History?" Smidge replied. "He told me that Suki had told him first, though. So I went to Suki and she said that Cooper had been the one to tell her, and—"

"Alright, I think I get it." Poppy said with a subtle smile as she tucked her notebook away into her locker, closing it shut and twisting up the combination. "Well, no harm in letting anyone know—"

"No harm? Have you _not. Dated. Before_?" Smidge cut into her sentence and threw her arms up for emphasis. "Poppy, you have to notice that you're dating one of the hottest guys at school."

"I already know that—"

"But what you also need to know is that there are other girls that still want him. Other girls that would pick a fight for him." Smidge said. "They're like sharks—always out on the look, swarming around the hot guy and biting at everything else they see."

"Smidge, what are you saying?"

"Poppy, it's great that you're with Branch now. It really is. But by being the girlfriend of _the Branch Woods_ , you're going to get yourself some enemies."

"That's ridiculous. People can't be _that_ stupid." Poppy forced out a laugh.

_Or could they?_

"Poppy." Another voice called out to her, and he turned to see Branch himself emerge from the crowds of students—some girls turned to look and stare, and Poppy could have sworn that some of them gave her the major stinkeye. "I've been looking for you."

"Branch, I... I'm sorry. I was talking with Smidge." Poppy replied and couldn't help but smile when she saw his face. How could someone be so handsome and so undeniably cute at the same time?

Branch turned and gave a nod to the shorter girl beside her. "You're Cassie Miller, right? Captain of the female basketball team?"

"Call me Smidge. And you're the co-captain of the football team and captain of the soccer team. Who am I kidding, everyone knows you." Smidge offered the boy a smirk before patting Poppy on the back. "I gotta get to class soon, see you two later! 

It was then just him, her, and the school.

"Hey."

"Hi."

"So... I was thinking we could walk to bio together? You know, to get started with this whole relationship thing?" Branch suggested quietly with a simple shrug.

"Really? I was thinking of asking you the same thing." Poppy perked up and a smile slowly grew onto her face.

Without a word, Branch carefully offered her an arm—and barely containing her squeal of excitement, Poppy took it, clinging onto him with both hands. And this definitely drew attention. Kids stared, some whispered, other girls pouted and marched off. She glanced up briefly to see how Branch was faring with the whole thing—to her surprise, he looked rather chill.

When they finally got to bio, they got into seats at the front of the class. Poppy had strongly insisted that they did, since it was one of the best places in the class to take notes. To her pleasure, he agreed.

The whole day was going so well.

"Hey, Branch."

Oh no.

Poppy turned her head hastily, her glasses almost flying off her nose as she glanced to see who it was—Kimmy Swift, daughter of Nova Swift, one of the most famous fashion designers of all time. She always wore fancy designer clothing, and she was pretty and hot and perfect in so many ways. The exact image you'd find on Google if you searched up 'pretty hot popular girl at school'.

Poppy had always hated her because of her stuck-up atttitude.

Okay, maybe she wasn't _that_ perfect. Just semi-perfect.

"Swift."

"So, Branch. Why don't you come sit in the back? You don't have to sit with _her_."

Poppy had to use all her willpower to act like she hadn't heard.

"Um, she's my girlfriend." As soon as she heard those words from Branch, a warm sensation spread through her chest. She was glad that he had refused, that he had actually told Kimmy Swift that they were already in a relationship.

"Huh. So what they all say is true. You _are_ dating the school nerd."

"It would be great if you didn't refer to Poppy by that word."

"Oh, Branch. Don't be so tense." And it shocked Poppy Kingsley to find that Swift's hands were on her boyfriend's shoulders, slowly moving down towards his chest before Branch himself could stop her from doing so—

Oh no she didn't. This was _her_ boyfriend.

She shot up from her seat and marched up to the scene. "Stop touching him, you bitch, he's _my_ Branch, you hear me? He's mine!" The words flew out of her mouth, she was completely enraged. The hatred she felt for this girl came pouring down on her at once. "If you lay your hands on him again, I'll personally kick your ass!"

One part of Poppy was almost grateful that the classroom was kind of empty, the other wanted to grind this girl down into bits. This was _her_ Branch.

Poppy started towards the girl, who had backed up a little from her abrupt screaming, but Branch grabbed her by the waist and pulled her back and while she struggled against his grip. "Alright, alright, calm down, feisty pants." He managed to pull her onto his lap and once she noticed what she was doing, Poppy stopped and blushed.

She couldn't deny feeling a sense of accomplishment when Kimmy Swift decided to walk out of the classroom with a loud scoff.

"Protective over me, aren't you?" Branch chuckled.

"Well, shouldn't have I been? I didn't like the way she was trying to touch you and all—"

"No, you did good." He rested his cheek against her arm, and that was the moment Poppy realized how much of a softie he was.

"Promise you aren't into another girl?"

"Promise."

"With chocolate syrup, gumdrops and cherries on top?"

"How could I be? I only have eyes for you."


	10. Last One Standing Takes the Crown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A has many admirers and B is jealous. Turns out A only has eyes for B, though.
> 
> Human/AU  
> Highschool/AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear **riru (Suriru)** ,
> 
> I _do_ know that you requested the football!branch and cheerleader!poppy AU, but I'm having a hard time trying to think of a certain scenario for the matchmaking. I'll try to write your oneshot as soon as possible, but I didn't want to keep anyone else waiting because of my small brain. So very sorry!
> 
> Deepest apologies and hugs,  
>  **Lexi**
> 
> This prompt was requested by Cukitalinda10. Sexual stuff is mentioned, nothing too specific.

Branch Woods was the ideal, perfect boyfriend. Absolutely _perfect_.

Well, only appearance-wise, was he the ideal, perfect boyfriend. It was safe to say that he did not have the most compatible and sociable personality. But of course, some girls couldn't deny a hot, good-looking hunk of muscles and gorgeousness.

Poppy Kingsley saw more than that. More than the exterior pretty boy.

She knew that despite his rather rough, boy-like outer side, he liked writing poems and drawing. She knew that he lived with only his grandma, and that he absolutely loved the woman with all his heart. She knew, very well, that he was planning to major in engineering but also wanted to double major in arts. She understood him more than anyone in the school.

It could be said that Poppy, so far, had been the only one who had gotten him to open up even the slightest bit, or the only one to make him smile—and _that_ was something that could be called an achievement, because Branch Woods was a very hard shell to crack. It was obvious that Poppy liked spending time with Branch, and vice versa. Maybe just a little.

What wasn't obvious (yet) was that Poppy Kingsley was head-over-heels for this young man. Good news? Branch didn't seem to hate her as much as he did with the others, which meant she kind of had a shot with this.

The bad news?

She wasn't the only one who wanted Branch. Never the only one.

With Branch Woods and horomone-raging-females? It was like sharks to chum.

"Branchie, Branchie, I got two tickets to the next Billie Eilish concert, wanna come with? I know how _much_ you love her songs—"

"Branch, my dad just borrowed the department store for his business on Saturday, can you help me pick out some clothes?"

"No, Branch, I'm sure you'd prefer going glamping with me this weekend to some lame shopping. It'll be just the two of us, nobody will be able to hear us, anyway."

Yup. Like mentioned earlier. Sharks to chum.

See, Branch Woods was not only handsome and fit and freakishly hot—he was smart, he was creative, and he had a great sense of fashion. Anything he wore at school would soon become a trend around town, starting from shirts and shoes to even socks. There had been a day he had ran out of socks to wear because he had mistakenly put them all in the laundry, so he had had to wear only shoes to school—the no-socks 'fashion trend' managed to last for a whole two months.

Branch Woods had everything a boy could ask for. The fame, the looks, the body and the brain. He had stalkers and psychopathic love letters too, which usually told him how cute their babies would look—that was a story for another time.

And Poppy Kingsley, optimist, glitter-rainbow-cupcake-lover, best hugger in town, wanted him.

"Smidge, I've been looking all over for—uh, Smidge?" Poppy waved her hand in front of Cassie Miller's blank face. "Smidge!"

"Poppy."

"Finally, I was starting to think you had learned how to sleep with your eyes open."

"Poppy."

"Yes, Smidge? Are you okay? Do I need to get the—"

"His eyes. They're... they're really nice."

"Eyes?" Poppy frowned. "Smidge, who's eyes are you talking about?"

"Woods'."

The simple, one-worded, short reply immediately had Poppy's head snapping to the side to see Branch Woods standing at his closed locker, staring into a piece of paper, seemingly focused.

Poppy had known about Smidge's little crush on Branch for a while—first it had been Milton Johns, then GD Diamond, and finally, making a halt at Branch's stop. The train didn't seem to want to leave, and that _may_ have been irritating Poppy for quite a bit. Lesser the enemies, the better.

"I never noticed how nice his eyes were." Smidge said aloud, and Poppy couldn't help but wince. "They're like, the ocean reflecting marvelous glows of the setting sun—"

Poppy laughed. "You sound ridiculous when you try to be poetic."

"Why, you—"

"Sorry, sorry." Poppy snickered and stifled her giggles. Her thoughts betrayed her efforts and sped back to Branch. Damn, her mind was persistent. "I'm gonna go talk to Branch, Smidge. See you in bio."

Not really awaiting any response just in case Smidge tried to stop her, Poppy hopped away and skipped towards Branch Woods with a hum.

"Hey, Branch."

"Poppy." The boy looked a bit shaken when he saw her once he turned around—he hadn't really expected meeting her face-to-face, noses half-an-inch from touching. "Hi."

"Kinda surprised to see you alone out in the open—you're usually... completely surrounded by other girls, it's impossible to talk to you." She chuckled nervously, wringing her hands behind her back. God, Smidge was right, he really _did_ have nice eyes.

"Yeah, managed to chase 'em all off. Told them I had better things to do." Branch turned to his locker, spun the lock for the combination and opened it up—pretty, neat envelopes and folded pieces of paper tumbled onto the floor at his feet, and he mindlessly pushed them away with his shoe.

"Do you do that to _all_ of your fanmail?"

"Fanmail? Is that what you call it? I don't bother reading them anymore, it's a waste of time. If somebody wants to tell someone else that they like them or that they want to have sex—"

"Wait, _what—_ "

"—you should at least ask them in person, not by writing stupid letters and making frilly, unnecessarily-colorful cards."

_Be bold, confess in person, no letters or... any colorful scrapbooking._ Poppy quickly added the note to her mental 'be Branch's perfect girlfriend' list. 

"... Wait, have you ever had, ya know, sex?"

He gave her a weird look. "Uh... no?"

"Well, do you plan on... doing it?"

"... Maybe?"

"With whom, if I may ask?"

" _I don't_ —Poppy, why are we talking about this? This is _not_ what an everyday conversation should look like." Branch stacked the papers he had been holding onto a pile in his locker and pulled out several textbooks. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Yup! All good in the hood!" Poppy flashed him a smile, and Branch rolled his eyes.

"Whatever. I'm never, ever going to date anyone at this school. If I do, it'll be some place else. See you later in art history?"

"Yeah, cya." Poppy, even though her hope kinda drifted away at what he said, gave him a small wave and a wide grin, and as he walked off, Branch returned it with a quick wave goodbye of his own. It made Poppy's heart thump loudly against her chest.

Just as he disappeared around the corner and she was about to turn around towards the biology classroom—

"What's it with you and Branch?"

Poppy was met with several confused and annoyed faces—she forced a grin.

"Satin, Chenille, Suki! Harper! Good morning! And my god, is that you, Violet? I barely recognized you, you've grown so tall—"

"We had lunch together yesterday, Poppy." Voilet deadpanned.

"And you _still_ haven't answered our question." Satin snapped, and her identical twin, Chenille, nodded in agreement with a small 'hmpf'. "Again, I repeat; what's it with you and Branch?"

"What's it with _us_? Ha, nothing!" Poppy kept the grin plastered on her face. "We're just really good friends."

"In that case, you two better stay friends. Because I'm going to be with him in just a short matter of time. I even saw him shirtless once, I bet I'm the first one."

"You mean that time you dressed up as a boy to go into the men's locker room?" Satin asked cluelessly, and scowled when Chenille pushed her in the arm.

"You're not helping, sis." Chenille muttered before turning to Poppy again. "Like I said, you are going to have to _stay_ friends—or there _will_ be consequences. Better admit it now if you have a crush on him, even if it's never going to worth anything."

"Ugh, fine. I like Branch, so what?" Poppy said, suddenly feeling herself fuel up a bit. "He deserves so much better than who only sees him for how hot he is."

"Are you saying that _you_ actually know him that well?"

"Maybe I do."

"You better get your nose out of _my_ business, stop distracting me with your little plans."

"I don't have any 'little plans' in mind! And am I supposed to remind you that you're the one who first came up to talk to me?"

"Back off, girl."

Suki snickered in the back.

Chenille snapped her head towards the gingerhead. "What's so funny, Suki? I thought you were here to question Poppy too, not giggle like a little schoolgirl."

"Nah, I'm not here to question anyone—I just tagged along to catch onto all the drama." Suki said nonchalantly.

With an inner groan, Chenille glared at Poppy. "Back away from Branch, Poppy. He's _mine_."

"No, he's _mine_!" Satin cried out and began pulling her sister's hair—Chenille screamed and this, of course, attracted the attention of every single student standing in the hallway.

"I claimed him first!" Harper said with a scowl before putting on a really pissed pouty face and turning away to wildly attack a random locker with her fists—Violet was desperately trying to break the two girls apart, who were now squirming on the tiled floors. At this point, everyone was now gathered around next to Poppy to watch the spectacle happening before their eyes. Some of them quickly began to record, several boys began chanting 'fight, fight, fight' over and over. Suki watched from beside the row of lockers with great interest.

"No, you guys, stop!" Poppy cried out, almost on the verge of ripping her hair out. All the rage and the envy and jealpusy she had felt earlier had completely dissiapated into nothing. "Stop!"

"Branch... is... mine!" Satin let out a long squeal when Chenille pulled on her hair, seeming as if she was trying to rip her scalp.

Poppy hated that they were all seeming to fight over Branch. Branch, who needed someone to understand him as well as _she_ did, someone to love him for who he truly was on the inside just like _her_... they were fighting over _her_ Branch, and she hated that a lot.

"No, stop! All of you, shut the hell up!" Poppy shrieked, waving her hands in the air just as Voilet managed to rip the twins off each other. The chanting died down, and soon everyone was staring at her. Suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious with all those pairs of eyes on her, she cleared her throat and urged herself to continue.

"I can't believe I'm actually about to say this in public, but... you all don't deserve Branch."

"Oh, and _you_ do?" A girl called out, and the crowd began muttering.

"I'm not saying," She continued, and the noise died down. "... look. I'm not saying that I deserve him either. I can be annoying, loud, and I know—a bit too enthusiastic." Poppy chuckled nervously, but soon regained her serious look. "But none of you know him at all. True, he's really, really hot, and he's really good-looking, but you don't know that his favorite poet and writer is Edgar Allen Poe. You don't know that he wants to go to MIT and become a world-renowned inventor. You guys don't know it at all.

"You only see him from the outside—and he needs someone to understand him. Look, he's not something you can claim, or possess, he's a person. He doesn't want money, or fame, or excessive attention. He just needs someone to share with. I'm sorry to say this, but none of you are a worthy candidate. And I might not be, either."

Poppy released a shaky breath before starting again. "People around us, need people to share and understand and sympathize. That's what makes us so human. We socialize, we grow, we become friends and we talk about the good ol' times. I don't want to be biased, but... you guys want yourselves to be satisfied, you don't care for Branch's feelings. And... he deserves _so much more_."

The urge to shut her mouth finally won her over and Poppy, pushing through the crowd, left to clear her head.

____________________

"Poppy." She looked up from her boring grilled cheese sandwich to see Branch heading towards her. The whole incident earlier flashed through her head, and she barely forced a smile.

"Hey, what's up?"

"I heard about what you did."

Her face fell. "Who told you?"

"One of the guys in my geography class, Cooper Hedges? I think you know him." He cleared his throat. "You know words spread pretty quickly around this school."

"Yeah, I do." Poppy bit her bottom lip. "Branch, I'm really sorry I said everything, I just had to speak what was on my mind—"

"I appreciate what you did."

"... You appreciate what I did?"

"I don't want to have to spend the rest of my school years being asked out by people who don't really know me, even if they think they do." He slowly took a seat next to her at the cafeteria table. "I know I can be a bit grumpy and rude at times—"

"Just a bit?" She teased, and Branch chuckled quietly.

"Okay, maybe a lot grumpy. But... I'm glad you spoke out for me. And despite the fact that I don't really like that you exposed that I like the darkest poems of all time—"

Poppy shrugged. "Sorry."

"—I'm grateful, Poppy. I'm... happy to have someone who cares for me." Branch smiled, just a little, but it was still a smile. Poppy could feel the warmth in her heart grow and grow, filling up every single cavity inside her.

"Branch, you're my friend. I care for you a lot."

"Poppy... this is not really what I'd usually do, but..." He cleared his throat. "... I think that, you're the one who understands me more than anybody else does. And I want to do all this talking, and hanging out a bit more often. Poppy Kingsley, I really like you."

Her heart literally got stuck in her throat. "... You like me?"

"Liked you for a while." He added sheepishly, and damn, was he adorable. "I just never really had the guts to tell you."

"Branch..." A smile grew onto her face. "Branch, I like you too."

Branch returned the smile with his own, perfect grin, and he carefully took her hand in his. Her heart fluttered for a brief second, the feeling of his fingertips on her skin sent shivers down her spine.

"You know, Poppy? Remember when I said I'm not gonna date anyone in this school?"

"Yeah?"

"I've changed my mind."


	11. Playing Matchmaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A and B like each other but neither of them would make the first move. As the most shipped couple of the school, it's their peers duty to make them fall into each other's arms.
> 
> Human/AU  
> Highschool/AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt requested by riru (Suriru). Sorry for the wait, haven't felt like writing anything, and it's kinda hard to figure out how to matchmake. This one might be bad.
> 
> Here we go.

She just wished one of them would blurt out their feelings already and get over with all this tension.

Branch Woods and Poppy Kingsley were both very different individuals, but it was so obvious that they had crushes on each other—and the students were getting tired of waiting.

Smidge swore those two were going to be the death of her.

"Smidge? What are you looking at?" Her friends, Billy Graham—also called Biggie—asked quietly as he took a seat beside her, setting his tray of school cafeteria pizza and coke. GD Diamond, whom Smidge liked to call Guy, hopped onto the seat opposite from her along with another one of Smidge's friends, Suki Hall.

"At those two." Smidge nodded towards the two students sitting at a table not too far off, facing each other as they both ate their lunch. One of them was Branch Woods, school star football player, and Poppy Kingsley, co-captain of the cheerleading team. "I swear to god, if they don't get together soon—"

"Now, girl. No need to get all hyped up about it." Suki warned carefully. "But I've kinda been wondering too—when _will_ they get together?"

"They won't at this rate. Not at this speed." Guy spoke up, twirling strands of his white-dyed hair that almost hung over his shoulders.

"They're the most shipped couple in school, aren't they?" Biggie asked. "Poppy and Branch."

"Something needs to be done." Guy added.

"... Yeah, something _does_ need to be done." Smidge said quietly, almost as if talking to herself. It wasn't long before a mischievous smile grew onto her face.

"Oh no, you've got that look on your face when you're about to hatch an elaborate plan that's likely to blow up in our faces." Suki commented, brows knitting. "What're you thinking of, Smidge?"

"We _have_ to get those two together at all costs." Smidge stated, looking back towards the awkward two at the other table. "We're going to do some matchmaking."

"Oh god."

"Team? Project 'Get Kingsley and Woods to Date' is a go!"

____________________

Branch Woods opened his locker and raised an eyebrow when a small piece of paper fell onto the floor. He picked it up and unfolded the pastel-pink slip.

_Dear Branch,_

_Can you meet me at the small café behind the school? I was just hoping we could talk._

_Love, Poppy xoxo_

"Poppy using correct grammar and punctuations? That's new." He muttered and carefully folded the note, slipping it into his pocket. He then grabbed his gym bag out of his locker and headed towards the locker rooms.

After changing and being equipped with his football gear, Branch went out onto the fields. It wasn't long before he found Poppy at the bleachers, talking excitedly with the twin sister cheerleaders, Satin and Chenille.

"Poppy!"

Hearing her name called, Poppy paused and turned around to see Branch heading her way. A huge smile grew onto her face. "Branch!"

She ran forward and wrapped her arms around her as she hadn't seem him in years—before noticing what she was doing and hastily pulled back. She blushed, and so did he.

"Um, sorry, heh. Got too excited there."

"No, it's fine."

Branch glared at Satin and Chenille, who were giggling uncontrollably on the bleachers.

"So, the café, right?"

The same thing was said simultaneously in unison, almost in sync, and that seemed to glue both of their lips together. No words were really exchanged for a while, and just when Branch was about to say something, their coach blew his whistle—it was time to play.

"I... gotta get out onto the field." He said quietly. "See you later, Poppy." Branch then turned around and putting his helmet on, hurried over to the football field.

"Oh, alright! I'll, uh, I'll cheer you on, yeah?" Poppy called out, waving although she knew he couldn't see.

"Poppy, when are you going to ask him out? It's been years you two started flirting with each other." Chenille pointed out, setting her signature pom poms onto the bleachers.

"Yeah, Poppy. _Years_. When are you gonna woman up?" Satin added.

"Flirting? We've never flirted." Poppy shook her head in denial. "And he _did_ ask me to meet him at the café after school—you know, the small one near the supermarket?"

"Oh my god, like, so it's a date?" Chenille asked.

"Pfft, no. Not a date."

_Please be a date._

"Sure, Poppy." Satin called out, setting her hands on her lap with a smirk plastered on her face. "Believe in whatever makes you sleep better."

That was _not_ the phrase Poppy would have used in this situation—because being cooped up with her goddamn feelings made her want to burst.

She turned and watched as Branch ran across the field, shouting to other teammates and at the split second, catching the ball and scoring a goal. The coach blew his whistle.

"Whooo! Go Branch, go Branch, goooooo, _Branch_!" Poppy exclaimed, hopping up and down, flailing her arms in the air.

"Satin, she's definitely got the hots for Branch."

____________________

For Poppy, school seemed to drag on for hours and hours that day, and she was just _dying_ to meet Branch. She had been in denial of her feelings for him way too long, and she just couldn't take it anymore. The butterflies in her stomach fluttered with excitement.

Just as the last school bell rang, signaling the end of class, Poppy grabbed her pink backpack and darted out of the classroom. Oh my god, she couldn't wait. Who knew Branch would have asked her to meet up and actually talk in _private_?

Sure enough, when she arrived, she found Branch sitting at one of the tables, using the reflective napking holder as a mirror because that actually seemed to suffice. She sat in front of him, setting her backpack down on the seat beside her.

"Hi."

"Poppy! I—sorry." He set the napkin holder back down onto the table, flustered at her sudden appearance. Well, she _was_ coming, he really should have expected it. "You're really early, I thought class just ended for you."

"You're really early, too. How come you came so fast?" Poppy asked carefully, grabbing the napkin holder and staring into her clear reflection as a current distraction from looking at that handsome face.

"Oh, right, I tripped during football earlier, got a good scrape on my ankle—I pretended I couldn't walk so I could be excused from class." He chuckled under his breath.

"Wait, seriously? You actually did that?" Poppy threw her head back with a quiet laugh. "No way."

"Yes way, that's what I just did. The school nurse would be infuriated if she knew."

"I always thought you were a sucker for classes."

"Sucker? Eh, not always."

Silence ensued, and things got a bit awkward. It wasn't long before both of them decided to break the silence.

"So, what did you wanna talk about?"

"... Wait, _you_ wrote the note—I wrote it too?"

They really needed to stop saying things at the same time.

"Poppy, I think someone set us up." Branch pulled put the folded note from his pocket and stared into the piece of paper.

Poppy pulled out her respective note too, supposedly written to her by 'Branch', or so it said. "Oh. I guess we _were_ set up." She had some ideas on who the culprits might be, but she decided to stay quiet for now.

_So he didn't really ask me out._

Her heart fell a bit.

"Well, uh..." Branch cleared his throat. "I know we don't... actually have anything to say to each other, but... we haven't really done this in a while. If you have the time, maybe we can just sit and talk?" His voice was quiet, almost hushed in a form of a whisper. The anxiety he was feeling was clear to the naked eye.

"My schedule is... completely empty for the day." Poppy replied with a subtle smile. "I can stay."

"Great."

Silence again.

"So, Branch... how are you faring with..." She didn't finish her sentence, words trailing off into nothing. She found herself not really wanting to complete it, and regretting bringing the whole thing up.

Branch Woods' parents had died from a car accident an year ago. He had grown distant with everyone since, had completely shut the world out from his life—just several months ago had he started opening up again.

"... I'm okay. Fine." He didn't specify further. "You?"

"Well, she died when I was pretty young, so I don't really remember her." Poppy said with a small smile. "Wish I did."

"... I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine."

Just then, a waitress set a glass on the table—her favorite frappuccino. She gave him a questioning look.

"... I ordered you a strawberry frappuccino. Extra whipped cream." Branch spoke up. "I know it's your favorite."

"Thanks." Poppy flashed him a quick smile and pulled the glass in her direction, took a sip out of the straw. The cold, creamy, rich and fruity flavor pleased her taste buds.

They both drank in silence, Branch stirring the teaspoon in his cup of coffee while Poppy drank half the glass, lips smeared with whipped cream. When he finally looked up at her and found a white foam mustache, he couldn't help but laugh.

"What?" Poppy question and squinted. "Do I have something on my face?"

"Not just something." He grinned and reached for her cheek, wiping a small speck of whipped cream away with his thumb.

Poppy blushed like crazy, and it was obvious Branch could tell. _Oh my goodness, he's touching me, he touched me!_

Laughing nervously, she wiped her lips with a napkin. "Cream mustache?"

"Cream mustache."

"You know, whoever left those notes in our lockers, I'm kinda glad that they did." Branch commented. "I should have noticed with the way it was written that it wasn't really you, but... I really like this."

"Me too. And also, you're not really a guy who'd add 'hugs and kisses' to a letter." Poppy waved the note at his face, managed a smile before looking out the window and at the leaf-strewn roads. "Wanna... head out? Go somewhere else?"

"Unless it's not too noisy, I'm down."

_Those muscles._ Her eyes found his biceps, bare, pale skin underneath a black-sleeved shirt. Since when did he have such. Nice. Muscles?

While she was admiring how hot he looked, Poppy stood and bumped her hip against the table corner and began falling face-first onto the floor with a cry—before she was caught by a pair of strong arms.

"You okay? That was a close call."

_Such agility and reflexes too._

"Heh, you know me, clumsy Poppy." She got her feet underneath her, balancing herself so that she didn't trip like an idiot again. "Sorry."

"Hey, I'm just glad I caught you." Branch smirked and held out a hand. "Shall we?"

Poppy nodded enthusiastically and began dragging Branch outside to who-knows-where.

"Dammit." Suki, who had been hiding at the table in the corner, pulled her sunglasses off and frowned with a pout. "I think they know."

"Of course they know, is that even worth making assumptions with?" Guy said, peeking out from above his newspaper.

"Alright, alright, so my plan blew up in my face again, sure. But look! They're making progress." Smidge argued.

"Progress, right. I think you just made the situation a whole lot awkward."

"Or did I?" Smidge pointed out the window, a rather smug look on her face. Biggie, Suki and Guy all looked towards the certain direction the girl was pointing at and their jaws dropped.

Branch was _kissing_ Poppy. They were kissing each other, Poppy was very well kissing back.

They were _kissing_.

"Told ya this one would work."


	12. Cute Kindergarten Teachers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A is a single mom/dad and B is a kindergarten teacher. A wants to talk and flirt while B is just confused.
> 
> Human/AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO. DAMN. ANNOYED.
> 
> My phone just suddenly kinda switched off. I was almost done with the chapter and now I have to rewrite it all again.
> 
> This prompt was requested by Cukitalinda10.

Poppy Kingsley was a single mom working at Starbucks as a barista, and her life was perfect.

Well, not _too_ perfect—if her ex Creek Willows hadn't left her because she was pregnant and she didn't need to work to pay her rent, _then_ life would have been perfect. But having her own daughter had improved her life so much, it was all totally worth it.

Little Rose was an extraordinary wonder, in Poppy's opinion. She was young, she was smart, she learned to talk at a very young age. And she was always sure that her six-year-old was doing absolutely fine in kindergarten.

And so here she was, standing in front of the school building, holding Rose's tiny hand. Teacher Parents Conference Day. Excited... but not too excited.

"Mommy, mommy, hurry up, I promised to meet Jane and Allison!" Poppy looked down at her little girl with a smile.

"Not too fast, sweetie. You'll rip my seam."

As soon as Poppy followed Rose upstairs and up to the classroom, the first thing she noticed was how, unlike the other classrooms, the door was completely spotless. No stains, no paint smears, no scribbles and no drawings hanging off by pieces of tape.

"Rose, sweetie, I want you to go play with your friends, alright? Mommy has to talk to your teacher."

"Oh, you'll _love_ Mr. Woods. He's the best." Rose smiled at her mother before running through the hall towards a small mini library in the corner, where several kids were either reading a book or having a pillow fight.

She knocked on the door of the classroom and waited patiently. It soon opened, startling her a little, and a young man poked his head out the opening. Black, charcoal hair, caucasian skin.

"Are you Mrs. Kingsley? Rose's mother?"

"Yes, that's me." This teacher was cute, and that was no lie.

"Come in, please take a seat in front of my desk."

He left the door ajar for her and Poppy stepped inside, taking in her surroundings as she shut the door behind her. The air was scented, oddly, with lavender. She found toys organized and tuck inside plastic boxes according to size and type. One wall completely dedicated to artworks of the students, finger paintings and drawings all lined up neatly. Labels of names attatched to each piece of construction paper. Desk and chairs all set up, parallel to the walls and in straight lines. Not a single speck of dust in sight.

As told, she took a seat in front of the table that was supposedly Mr. Woods' work table—a white laptop sat open in the middle, a calender at the right and a stack of papers and writing tools on the left. He took a sat down in his chair, and as he did, Poppy noticed the small billboard on the wall beside his head, colorful drawings and letters covering every single space.

"Good morning, Mrs. Kingsley."

"You look awfully young to be a teacher."

She didn't know why those had been the first words to leave her mouth, it was kinda of a sudden impulse.

He looked up from the papers he was looking at. "I started my career at an early age." A very simple answer.

"How old are you?"

"Won't it be unprofessional of me to tell you?" He said matter-of-factly, reaching for the wire-rimmed glasses next to his laptop.

"You don't have to be professional all the time."

"Well, Mrs. Kingsley, these are one of the times you _do_ need to be professional."

"Professionalism is a necessary evil."

"Professionalism is not a word. Politics can be considered a necessary evil, but not being professional."

"I think—"

"Are we both going to sit here all day, or are you here to hear about how Rose is doing in class?"

"Right, right. Rose." She cleared her throat and sat up a bit in her chair. "Go on."

"Rose is... doing exceptionally well." He started. "She has achieved higher standardized test scores than others—probably also will in the future—and she has been excelling in school. In addition, Rose has developed strong social skills engaging in more child-to-child interactions and developed her interpersonal skills.

"She has many friends, she's obedient, she's honest and she's a great helper. I think it's safe to say Rose will grow to be a wonderful person." He glanced up and gave Poppy a small smile. "You have one amazing daughter—don't give up on her."

Poppy couldn't help but smile back. The way his gaze softened when he was talking about Rose, it was impossible to deny how adorable that was.

"So... what made you become a kindergarten teacher? Not really attempting to live your life to the fullest before busying yourself with a job?" She asked.

"Aren't these questions a bit too personal?"

"Well, I want to get to know you better, seeing as you're going to be my daughter's teacher for the rest of the year." She flashed him one of her sweetest smile, and inwardly giggled when his eyes flickered over to the screen of his laptop instead.

"... I didn't have anything to do with my life. And children are innocent, they're developing and learning through every new second of their lives. And they all have the potential to become great members who could benefit the society. It's all worth it."

"Well, why didn't you become a middle school teacher?"

"Don't want to deal with adolescents and their puberty." He muttered in response. "Kindergarten is just right."

"Daycare?"

"Ew." Simple response for a simple inquiry.

"All my daughter talks about after coming home from school is how much of an amazing teacher you are." Poppy said.

A small smile once again found its way onto his face. He was cute, really cute. "Rose is a wonderful child. Outgoing, optimistic, really helpful." He then pointed towards a particular pink letter at the corner of the billboard. "She gave this to me just a week ago."

"She loves crafting, even at home. And I noticed how... tidy everything is." She commented, taking another brief look around the place.

"I teach my students to clean up after their own mess." He said. "I teach them how to classify and organize their possessions by different standards. Of course, most of them didn't really like it at first, but it's now a normal routine. They do most of the cleaning."

"Wow, Mr. Woods, that's great! You _are_ an amazing teacher." She smiled at him, and she could swear she saw him blush.

"I try."

"See? You're not being too professional anymore, you've loosened up." Poppy pointed out. "What's your name?"

A small groan. "Do I _have_ to tell you my name?"

"Who knows—we might end up meeting somewhere else other than a classroom."

He cleared his throat at this, and put the papers onto the stack at his side. "It's Branch. Branch Woods."

"I'm Poppy. I know, bit of a spunky name." She giggled. "My parents kinda had a weird obsession with flowers."

"Didn't you name your child Rose after the flower as well?"

"Eh, my dad chose the name. There were so many good options, I just couldn't pick one." She answered before being struck at the thought of another question. "Ya know, you don't really seem like the type of person who'd want to be a kindergarten teacher. Maybe more of a stern, hot—"

" _What—_ "

"—middle school teacher? Or high school? 'Cause, you know. You're a bit... moody. And grumpy."

"I hear that a lot." Branch said with a small sigh.

"Well, it's true. But the kids all seem to like you, I can't really complain, can I?"

"I guess so."

"Do you work out?"

The inquiry was a bit sudden and unexpected, and Poppy could tell by how flustered he looked. "Huh?"

"Do you work out?" She repeated slowly, eyeing him with curiosity and a slight smirk. She was absolutely loving how he was blushing like crazy, it was adorable.

"Uh..." He bit his lip. "Just sometimes. I get busy."

"Well, that explains the body." And with that, he got even redder.

He snapped his head to the side to find the clock. "I think it's time we both parted ways for now, I got a meeting scheduled at ten thirty." Branch got to his feet, still flustered, and started towards the door.

"But you still have ten minutes."

"I just remembered that I liked being early for these things."

As soon as Poppy left the room right on the young man's tail, she was quite amused to see him hurrying towards the small library, where all the kids were supposedly engaged in a wrestling match with cushions.

"No, Brandon, don't punch the cushion, you'll hurt it—Alex, put that book down, you might poke someone."

Alex, the little blonde boy, set the book down and instead made a gun with his fingers, pointing it at Branch's chest. "Pew, pew!"

At this, Branch clutched his heart, staggering on his feet. "Oh no, you got me—" He fell back onto the beanbags, groaning dramatically as he gasped for air. "Remember my name—" And once he went limp, faking his death, all the children began screaming excitedly and giggling, clambering onto his body.

"No, Mr. Woods, you can't go!"

Branch released a carefree laugh, and Poppy couldn't help but smile at this—the way his tone and expression changed when he was facing the kids. He looked so happy, the genuine smile on his young features, just like true happiness.

"Alright, you're parents will be here to pick you guys up soon." He managed to carefully push all the children off and get to his feet, Rose spotting Poppy and tagging along with him, clutching his hand.

And once his eyes met Poppy's and as if he had realized that she had seen all that, he cleared his throat and looked away.

"Well, whaddya know, _Mr. Woods_?" She teased. "You have a very soft spot for children."

"It's my nature." He responded calmly before letting go of Rose's hand.

The little girl wrapped her arms around Poppy's waist. "Mommy!"

"Hey, Rose." She chuckled and gave her a quick one-armed hug. "So, I guess I'll be seeing you around the school?"

"Yes, of course, Mrs. Kingsley." He said, and then bent down on one knee in front of her daughter, gave Rose a warm smile. "See you on Monday, Rose. And tell your mommy what an amazing student you are."

"It was nice meeting you." Poppy called out as Rose dragged her along the hall, at the same time waving goodbye to Branch.

"So, mommy. How was Mr. Woods?"

Poppy hummed. "He was great. Really great."

She hoped this year would drag on for quite a while—who knew when she would be able to see more of Branch?


	13. Promises Etched Into Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A is a Rock Troll, and A gets a tattoo dedicated to B, A's girlfriend/boyfriend. B reacts to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** there are spoilers of Trolls World Tour in this oneshot. DO NOT read if you don't want to be spoiled before you see it.
> 
> This prompt was suggested by Geekgirles! I'm really starting to love you, hun. No homo.
> 
> May be kinda short.

Branch could have never imagined a plain, electric-guitar loving Rock Troll to fall for the Queen of Pop—but he had anyway, and things actually turned out the way he had wanted.

Yup, he was dating Queen Poppy, and he had never been more hyped.

And he was even more hyped now that he was with his close friend Big J, a tattoo expert who had been the one to draw every single tattoo over his body. And Branch loved tattoos, how could anyone not?

Sure, Branch was a Rock Troll—born a Rock Troll, grew up a Rock Troll, will always be a Rock Troll. And sure, he loved rock music and heavy metal with all his heart—but he also liked touches of calm, tranquil songs. Pop seemed like the perfect remedy for all the fatigue he felt.

He talked like a Rock Troll, looked like a Rock Troll—but Branch was a bit different. In many, many ways nobody could imagine.

"So, Branch. What's it gonna be this time?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna do this one for Poppy. Been planning it for quite a while." Branch climbed onto the chair, stretching his joints and his muscles.

"For Poppy? You sure? What if you two break up?"

"Well, I bet we won't. But if we do, well, I'll have something to remember her by." He replied. "Now, get on with your business, and do your job—I've got a busy day ahead of me."

"Whoa, slow down, boy." Big J climbed onto his work table and lay down. "You haven't even given me a design yet."

"Well, what do you think I should get? What would make her feel so special that she'd love the tattoo once she sees it?" Branch called out, rubbing the teal skin on his arm.

"What about something classic and traditional?"

"Traditional? You mean tattoos for old people?"

"No, not _that_ kind of traditional—ya know, classic love tattoos. The arrowed heart, lover's name with it. Or you can totally go with something else, it's your choice, bruh."

Branch thought for a moment. "Ya think she'll like it?"

"Don't ask me, dude—she's _your_ girlfriend, not mine."

"I know that. But what if she doesn't like it? Tattoos have to be chosen wisely, you know this."

"Hey, I'm not the guy getting the tattoo. _You_ are. If you're so worried about choosing the designs of your tattoos, how come you were able to get so many?"

Branch briefly looked down at his shirtless self, catching a glimpse of the big tattoo across his chest. "Skulls are just cool." He muttered. "And try to get serious here, this is Queen Poppy. Queen of _Pop_. I have to make it so that it's not too rock-ish, a little bit pop-ish."

"Not too rock-ish? Branch, drawing rock-ish tattoos is my profession."

"... Give me the arrowed heart." He finally decided, leaning back against the worn black leather chair. The surface felt cool on his bare back. "The tattoo's free, right?"

"Why do you ask for free tattoos every time you come by to get one, you piece of crap?"

"Love you too, Big J."

____________________

It had been two days since he had gotten his tattoo (for free, it had taken a bit of persuading) and Branch, for one, couldn't wait to show it to Poppy.

And this was the perfect opportunity—Poppy had just finished her first group band practice with Queen Barb. He had heard from Riff that they hadn't really decided on a name yet, but that they were going to figure it out someday.

When he finally found the pink-haired wonder, humming joyfully to herself while she swung the tote bag full of snacks, skipping through the Rock Troll realm, Branch broke into a smile. "Poppy!"

Hearing her name called, Poppy turned to find her super hot boyfriend. "Branch!" The tote bag flung out of her hands as she ran over and threw her arms around him, snuggling into his chest. "Oh, I missed you. I'm sorry I couldn't come around as often as I used to, I'm just so busy being queen back in my village, and—"

"Hey, hey, calm yourself down, girl. It's fine. I understand." Branch said as she finally pulled away from the tight embrace. Poppy smiled, exhaling.

"Ooh, I'm so lucky to have someone like you." She said, rocking back and forth on her heels. "So, how've you been? Your hair's a bit messier than usual." Her hands reached for the mix of red and black strands—Branch didn't pull back.

"Actually, Poppy, I got another tattoo."

"Another one? Do you even have any space for tattoos?" Poppy looked his upper body up and down, trying to find a place that wasn't covered in skulls, skulls with devil horns, or skulls with devil horns and black ravens.

"Saved the best one for you to see last." With a small smirk, he turned around so that his back faced her, and Poppy let out a happy little gasp.

Right over where his scapula was under his skin was a tattoo of a pink heart with a crown on top, matching the color of her own skin. It was outlined with small black dots and short lines. A black arrow pierced through the heart, and the words ' _Poppy; My Heart Beats Only For You_ ' written neatly in cursive underneath the picture.

Her finger gently traced his bare skin over the tattoo, and the sensation of her cold touches made him shiver the slightest bit.

"Awe, Branch... this is really beautiful." Poppy exclaimed. "Is this for me? You got this tattoo for me, permanently etched it onto your skin? Oh, Branch—" She hugged him tightly from behind, pulling him close to her, her arms around his neck. "I absolutely love it. Thank you."

"Anything is worth doing for you, Poppy." Branch chuckled as his hands held onto hers over his bare chest. "And I'm really glad you like it—hell, it was really hard choosing which design to pick."

"This one is perfect." She carefully leaned back and ran her finger over his back on the tattoo. "Black and pink. It's a very good mixture." A gentle kiss was planted onto his left cheek, and a warm sensation spread throughout his body.

Silence ensued before another squeal made him jump.

"Branch, oh god, I _still_ can't believe you actually got a tattoo _just for me_ —"

He smiled to himself. Tattoos were like permanently-written promises and vows—and Branch was quite satisfied with himself about the fact that he had managed to promise to himself that he'd love Poppy forever.


	14. Beats And Music And Pretty Disco Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A is out at a club/bar/party, is being hit on by an unsavory person (creep/exboy/girlfriend), when they can't shake this unsavory person away, A grabs B (complete stranger), and pretends that they are "together".
> 
> Human/AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glad to be writing Tealbull81's first request for this collection of Broppy fluff!

Strip clubs? Pole dancing ladies and men stuffing dollars underneath their clothes? Not Poppy Kingsley's cup of tea.

Plain, old normal clubs? Dancing, drinking, karaoke, the works? She loved them. Absolutely loved them.

She didn't really like drinking too much—one glass of vodka was enough to drive her mad—but she still enjoyed the basics of a night club. The friends, the laughter, the dancing, and the fun. It was all so worth it. And whenever she went, she always expected to have a blast, enjoy herself, and return home for a good night sleep.

What she _had not_ expected was happening to notice her ex boyfriend in the same club she was at.

"Poppy."

She turned away from her friend Suki to find a face that she had wished a year ago never to see again. "Creek Willows."

"Poppy, you look... rather stunning."

"I'd rather not take any compliments from you, thanks."

"Don't be like that, love." And when Creek took several steps closer to her, Poppy put on a scowl and barely stopped herself from punching him in the face. "I think we got off on the wrong foot."

"It's just the way it is, Creek." She said firmly. "I've moved on from you—and I think it's time you do the same."

"Now, let's not make any more bad impressions, shall we? How about we try starting over?"

She couldn't take more of this crap. Without thinking, she grabbed the closest person she could find and pulled whoever it was to her side—boy or girl, she didn't care. 

She looked to the side to see a complete stranger—dark blue hair, obviously dyed, exposed in the disco lights above, pale skin and very handsome features. Even the way he was dressed gave off really nice vibes. The perfect pretend boyfriend.

"What are you doing—" He hissed.

"Just play along." She whispered back, leaning in towards him to make it so that her voice was only audible to him. "Sorry, Creek—I already have a boyfriend."

"Uh, yeah. I'm her boyfriend." He said, brows knitting in confusion.

"I'm Poppy's ex—and maybe you've noticed that you're in the middle of interrupting something?" Creek returned his reply with much attitude, being rather snappish. _Geez, what an idiot_.

"No, you're the one who interrupted _us_ —" The man said, and Poppy was almost surprised how well he was dealing with the situation. His voice interrupted her thoughts as he continued. "—so, 'ex', I suggest that you kindly get your ass out of our faces so we can enjoy the rest of our date without your unwanted company."

"Oh, I'm so scared." Creek whined dramatically, and Poppy couldn't help but roll her eyes. "What are you gonna do about it, 'boyfriend'?"

The second he stepped up in front of Creek, Poppy then realized how tall he was—much taller than Creek, apparently. And much more fit. Her cheeks burned, hidden by the flashes of blinding lights.

He must have felt the least bit intimidated by the new guy, and Creek spat out a short but loud 'hmph', turned back and began pushing through the crowd, muttering incoherent words under his breath. After his brightly colored green-and-teal hair disappeared into the crowd, only then did the young man turn to face Poppy, obviously to question her.

"I... thank you so much. He was being such a creep and I just had to do something—"

"No, it's alright. Asshole deserved it." He responded after a while. "But next time, give someone a warning before you pull them in and make them pretend they're your boyfriend?"

"Sorry, I was desperate." Poppy, then with a smile, held out her hand for him to shake. "Poppy."

"Branch." He responded and shook on it. "Really bad luck for you to bump into your ex-boyfriend at a club—what are the odds?"

"Bad luck indeed." Poppy sighed and peered behind Branch's back, checking one more time if Creek had truly gone. "I don't know why he's here."

"Probably to drink out his sorrows and get his sorry ass kicked." Branch suggested with a simple shrug. "What about you?" It was kind of weird how she could hear his voice so clearly—music was booming in the background, she could barely hear others talking.

"I'm here with my friends, I come here every Sunday." Poppy said. "You?"

"I'm just here for the cocktail."

"Really?"

"This place makes the best cocktail in town, what can I say?"

Poppy threw her head back with a laugh. "What about the dancing, the partying and all the chit chat?"

"I don't really chit chat a lot."

"Well, you're chit-chatting right now. _And_ you also helped out a girl by pretending that you're they're boyfriend. Don't really believe that."

"I don't really enjoy being around _too_ much people."

Poppy nodded carefully. "Who are you here with? Friends?"

"One of my co-workers, his name is Carl. I don't really get how he even managed to get a job—he's one of those weirdos who wears socks with no shoes."

"Pfft, _everyone_ can wear socks without shoes—"

"Not out in public they can't."

"Oh." Poppy stopped. "Well, um, different people make a better world?"

"You're trying to make wearing only socks outside is a normal thing." Poppy couldn't miss the subtle smirk on Branch's face.

"I am, I'm just not doing a great job of it." She chuckled. Suddenly, the music switched into something a bit more upbeat, and Poppy immediately grabbed the stranger's hand, pulled him onto the dance floor.

"Huh, what are you doing?"

"C'mon, dance with me!" She started swaying her body to the beat, moving her hips and her feet.

"I don't dance." Branch crossed his arms and watched her dance instead—feet tapping against the floor to the rhythm.

"See, you're feeling it. Go on, try it!" She exclaimed. "Dance!"

Branch chuckled and with a shake of his head, starting moving along to the beat—Poppy nodded with a smile on her face. "C'mon, don't be shy!"

And then it completely broke out—this stranger, Branch, was shaking his arms and legs like a pro, dancing to the beat, body moving with elegance, grace, and also smoothness Poppy herself couldn't describe.

It was like liquid adrenaline being injected right into his bloodstream—not so strong as to freak him out, but just enough to make him tingle and move his body. Branch had never really taken any dance classes—but he had jived to music since his early teens. Now, just turned twenty, he was a well-oiled machine on the dance floor.

And to Poppy, anyone who could move their limbs like they were half-liquid in perfect rhythm and still looked strong was interesting, to say the least. And it was mesmerizing.

As soon as the beat died down into slow music, Poppy didn't waste time to grab the stranger, putting her arms around his neck—she couldn't tell if it was instinct or something that had been planned, but his own arms slipped around her waist. They slowly swayed from side to side.

"You were lying when you said you couldn't dance." Poppy pointed out with a smirk. "You're the greatest dancer I've ever seen."

"I'm still a bit rusty—it's been a while, you know?" Branch said.

"Rusty? Man, you're plenty oiled up."

They both slow-danced in silence for a while, crowded around other people across the dance floor, swaying to the slow, calming beat. Poppy could almost feel his heart beating in sync to the rhythm, and listening to it calmed her.

"I hope this isn't the last time we meet." She mentioned as she looked up from his throat to finally meet his eyes—they were a beautiful turquoise, his expression was pleasant, with an inkling of wistfulness, while the soft glimmer of his eyes betrayed a poet and a dreamer.

"I hope the same." He muttered back, and his lips ghosting over her own.

"You know what? Let's just focus on dancing for now." Poppy said, a small smile breaking onto her face. "Enjoy the music."

____________________

They both danced for quite a while. The night was long, it stretched up for hours and hours. When they both decided it was time to go back to their respective lives, it was already early in the morning.

"So... same time here on Wednesday?"

"Yup."

"Alright... see you then. And whenever you need a pretend boyfriend, give me a call."

And Branch, with a quick wave and a flash of a dazzling smile, ascended up the stairs, leaving the music, the beats, and the lights behind. Poppy looked into her contacts and found Branch's name. She smiled.

Next time they met, it wouldn't be just dancing, and Poppy would make sure of that.


	15. Eras Of Burning Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A is a princess of the kingdom and B is the captain of royal guards. Every morning, A sneaks around to watch B train.
> 
> Medieval/AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another amazing request by riru (Suriru)! Very excited to be writing this one. A bit of angst here.

Poppy Kingsley was well aware of the castle rules—members of the royal family were not allowed to roam about in the castle halls without bodyguards or servants to supervise.

Well, she didn't need any supervision, she was _that_ independent. She thought.

So every morning when her bodyguards would go on their five minute break, she'd sneak out of her room and head straight towards the training quarters.

Poppy Kingsley, princess of Troll Kingdom, knew very well that the general of the royal guards, Branch Woods, would come to the same room to train alone at six thirty in the morning. She didn't really like waking up as early, but to see Captain Woods, it was worth it.

The training room always smelled of musk and sweat with a hint of old copper. And the princess had to admit—she liked the smell, and she enjoyed peeking behind walls and seeing Woods in plain secrecy. Sometimes it _did_ make her feel like a stalker.

Still worth it.

And now, trying not to trip on her gown, Princess Poppy traveled barefoot across the floors of the castle, fingers finally grabbing hold of and gripping the doorway—the familiar scent greeted her immediately.

And there he was, Captain Woods, leaning against the marble pillars, fingers running along the shiny blade of the sword in his hands. Expression stoic, nothing else to show.

And that sight itself made the princess's heart flutter.

She had never really had much chance to talk to the captain in person—she remembered, as a little girl, sitting on the throne beside the king. Branch Woods' father, kneeling at the king's feet with his sheathed sword—and along with him, his younger son.

Her father, King Peppy, had told her many things about the undying royalty of the Woods heritage—generation to generation, the role for captain had been passed on from man to man. All of them had left either peacefully or on the battlefield, leaving trails of great deeds done.

After Branch's father died from war between clashing kingdoms not too long ago, he was ordered to step up as captain. Poppy had never seen him mourn, cry, nor smile. Not even at his own father's funeral had he blinked a single tear.

From what she knew, Branch's father had been a very strict man. He had trained his son to be a great warrior, and seeing how many battles he had won across the years of his youth, Poppy wouldn't have objected. And from the castle above, she'd watch him order his men with such a strong commanding voice.

Captain Woods was a mysterious, wonderful, courageous individual, and it almost seemed impossible for Princess Poppy not to like him.

She flinched when the young man pushed himself off the pillar with a grunt and swung his sword aggressively—the blade hit a stuffed dummy stand that she hadn't noticed standing, and it immediately sliced through the thick lump, ripping it apart. He twisted his sword inside the dummy's chest with quick reflexes—if it had been a person, they would be dead by then.

Princess Poppy watched with wide, curious eyes as he yanked his sword out of the mess of cotton and cloth, this time getting into battle stance and swinging furiously at the air in front of him, as if imagining an enemy with a weapon. 

He held the blade even, a perfect, undaunted horizon; always leveled with the nose. Displaying a great amount of impressive kicks and swings of his appendages, the blade flashed as he brought it over his head and the sword hummed a low, swift tune as it fought against air, speed cutting through the tension.

The captain stood up straight with great speed, slashing at nonexistent foes and battling with great ferocity. He weighed the sword in his right hand, slashing it delicately at the air with a master-like apprehension, and as he did so the reflection of the orange torch flame on the wall danced warmly within the cool steel. The handle of the sword was bound with black leather, the hilt decorated yet understated, and the blade was long and narrow.

He finally finished with a loud battle cry, stabbing at an armor stand now lying at his feet. The helmet clattered to the side, pieces of armor rolling out onto the floor. Poppy stood still as the young man breathed heavily, sword plunged into the heart of the dummy and his stance on one knee. Beads of sweat trickled down his temples, perspiration matted his hair to his skin.

And Poppy could see it so clearly—the clouded, frustrated look in his eyes, growing heavier with each and every breath he took.

"Damn it."

The sword was tossed to the ground and it skidded across the floor, coming to a halt when it met a pillar. He kneeled on the floor and Poppy watched quietly, trying to keep her breathing inaudible. She could sense the stings of pain radiating off him, and it broke her heart.

"Princess."

The words were spoken so softly that Poppy hadn't even noticed he had moved his lips to utter the single word.

"We do not speak of today."

Knowing she had already been caught red-handed, she stepped out into the doorway, fully exposing herself. She suddenly felt ashamed, but kept her head high like he always did.

"Captain Woods."

The silence lay on her skin like a poison. It seeped into her blood and paralyzed her brain.

His face was one of hurt. He picked his eyes off the floor with the weariness of one who was fatigued with holding everything in. Emotions were a weakness. And he fought to endure it all, wielded swords and killed without mercy. The void was a cruelty that both of them had unintentionally inflicted, and there was no turning back.

Without thought, the royal princess entered the room and pulled the young man into an embrace.

She wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close, gently rubbing his arm. Despite the heaviness in his stomach, it fluttered at the feeling of her body pressed against his. He sunk into the warmth of her side, appreciative of the simple gesture. Her touch made the room warmer somehow, his future within its walls seeming a little less bleak.

"Captain. Stay strong."

"Tell me how, princess."

"Keep fighting. Keep fighting and there will soon be a rainbow to show."

It wasn't long before the court ladies found the missing princess and pulled her away, and the moment was lost and gone.

But it was still left warm in both their hearts, thawing frozen ice like a fire, and that was all they needed.


	16. Unexpected Phone Calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A is fed up with their girl/boyfriend and decided to break up with them. They end up calling B instead, a complete stranger, and the two engage in a conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOODNESS. I'm done with my life, _stab me_.
> 
> **Rewriting this super long chapter three times because my phone is so STUPID. FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU.**
> 
> Prompt requested by shamefulscrapbook.

Poppy Kingsley was fed up with Creek Willows, tired of all his fricking bullshit.

"That dumb idiot, oh, I'm gonna make him suffer—" She snatched her pink iPhone and collapsed down onto the mattress, climbing up higher onto the bed to find a better position to rant. She angrily tapped in the passcode for her phone, and began punching in her soon-to-be-ex's number. Once she was done, Poppy put the phone to her ear and waited with her fists clenched at her sides.

"Hello?"

"Well, no 'hello's for you, you son of a bitch. I'm tired of your silly little excuses, your attitude, and I've had it up to here—I mean, _I had it up to here_ —"

What she did not know was that on the other end of the line was another young man, sitting on his bed with a book open on his lap, brows knitted as he listened to this woman rant.

"—you can go _fuck yourself_ , die in a hole, for all I care. I hate you, I'm so done with you, you hear me? I've had it—"

"Excuse me?"

Because for him, this was a crazy person calling him at 9PM, telling him to go die in a hole and referring to him as a son of a bitch. 

"—I never want to see your face again as long as I live, Creek Willows. You are a disgrace to this world, and I hate you so much! From this day, we are _over_ , you hear me? We're through—"

"Ma'am, can you—"

"Oh, so now you're calling me ma'am? Thinking that acting polite will make me take you back? Well, asshole, that's not going to fucking happen, never in a million years—"

"Hey, listen—"

" _What_? What's so important that it's worth cutting me off?"

"Okay. Listen." He took a deep breath. "I think you have the wrong number."

"Wrong number, my ass! This is the number you gave me!"

" _I_ gave you? I don't even know who you are!"

"Are you Creek's friend? Are you? Pass the phone back to that asshole, I command you. C'mon, Willows, face me like a man, _you coward_ —"

The young man had to pull away from the phone when she started screaming, just in case he went deaf. When she seemed to have finished, he slowly put the phone back to his ear. "... Are you done?"

"Never."

"Look, I'm sorry, but believe me, _you've got the wrong number_. I'm no Willows."

"Ugh, Creek, stop acting like you're someone else and actually talk to me!"

"I'm acting like I'm someone else because I _am_ someone else! I'm not the guy you're looking for."

"Bullshit."

"Look, just... check the number you called." He could almost hear himself begging. "Please."

Poppy brought her phone down, looking down into the screen. And she was absolutely confident she had been right. "See, it's your..." Until now. "Oh."

"Finally convinced?"

"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry." Poppy immediately sat upright. "I genuinely thought you were someone else."

"That much is pretty obvious."

"So sorry, I..." She pulled at her hair with her free hand, gritting her teeth—how could've she been so stupid? "... I was trying to break up with someone. None of those were spoken towards you, I should have noticed you weren't him when I saw that you didn't have his accent. I'm... I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine. Things happen, we can't really avoid them, can we?"

"It's just that... my boyfriend, he's a real pain in the ass. He says he wants to go on a date, but he always cancels at the last minute with the same dumb excuses every time—"

Once he was a glass figurine, perfect to the eye, fragile underneath. He was then ground to the finest of dust—still glass, yet vulnerable to any gust. He still felt pain, so much raw pain, but he couldn't be broken anymore.

"—I can't even trust him anymore, he's so untrustworthy. I can't even stand behind next to him, he's a complete embarrassment—"

He was cut at, bruised. A strike, a wound, a draw of blood to win any victory no matter how petty. Excused with meaningless jibes about the words he used to mount my inadequate defense, playing with semantics rather than true meaning. Perhaps they were unable to understand emotions, perhaps they simply didn't care, only wanting his hollow "victories"—either way they were through and the pain seared at his heart.

"—and I'm now definitely sure that we are _not meant to be_ —"

Hearing problems about one's disappointment for whom they loved was the last thing he wanted to do—his heart had already been broken.

" _Please_ , stop."

The tone of his voice he had used to utter those two words hadn't been too loud nor too soft—instead it had been just the adequate amount to make her stop midsentence.

"I... sorry. Relationships are a touchy subject for me right now." He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers. "But... you don't deserve any of that crap, and it's really brave of you to decide to call him up to make your own decisions. And after this call, you're going to dial his number—the right number—straight away and repeat all the stuff you were telling me. And trust me; at the end of the day, you'll find someone else."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"So... how was your day?" A feeble attempt to lighten up the mood, but still an attempt nonetheless.

"Oh, the _worst_."

"Er, right." Poppy cleared her throat—how was she supposed to respond to that? "Well, I work as a barista, so I just spend the most of my day taking orders, watching coffee drip, and talking to customers."

"That sucks."

"Sucks? No, it's great." She frowned, her brows knitting together. "Don't you like meeting new people?"

"I'm not really a 'people' guy. I don't like interacting with others in person."

"Well, it seems like you're faring well with me. And I'm a stranger."

"This is different—these are just voices, there's no eye contact or anything."

"Well, uh, as strangers, can I ask you a simple question?"

"Sure."

"... Have you ever been in love before?"

The inquiry stabbed at his heart like a knife and it hurt to no end, like a burn marking his heartbreak on his skin.

"... You didn't say it was gonna be so personal."

"I tend to ask personal questions—it makes me feel closer to others."

He inhaled deeply. "Have I been in love before? Yes, I have."

"How was it? Loving someone."

The inside of his mouth suddenly felt dry, and the lump in his throat seemed to block his windpipe.

"It's like..." He released the breath he realized he had been holding. "... it's like entering a house and finally realizing you're home. When they smile at you, you feel invisible hands wrapping around you making you feel safe. When their eyes are locked on yours, it's like you can see galaxies instead of just pupils. Having them in your life makes me you feel everything's possible in this world, like you can conquer anything."

"Soul of a poet, huh?"

"I've been told."

The silence was a poison to them, for in that void of sound the shallowness of their conversation was laid bare.

"But then again..." He said softly, finally breaking the quietness of the moment. "... when the magic ends, it chokes you and leaves you scarred. You become nothing."

He had once stained the floor with his love. It had run from his mouth and he had choked on air. It had bled from his ears and drippped from his chin. His head had hung low, heavy with thoughts of what had once been.

" _That's what loving someone feels like._ "

His heart hurt and it painted his soul with black.

His heartache was something like the music of a great orchestra. At times it was quiet and allowed him to function, at other times the violins would play and he would be upset, then at other times it would rise to a crescendo and the anger would burst from his chest in a vicious shout of anguish.

"And that's all that love is. Nothing comes back to you in the end."

"... Maybe."

His eyes looked up from the white bedsheets, dark spots dancing across his vision. Her voice suddenly sounded so soothing and soft, he just _had_ to listen, stranger or not.

"But that's not all what love is. There's more. In a world of endemic sickness, where cruelty is the cause and love the antidote, the patients declare themselves doctors and seal the fate of the world.

"When sunlight enters raindrops and emerges as rainbows, so love enters the soul of each person and emerges as their passions in the arts, in science, in nature... in whatever sparks their curiosity and drive. It is how we find their truth and purpose. It is how we give of ourselves to others.

"Love is what makes us who we are, it is the energy that brings us to life. So don't be ashamed of loving—it's _inside_ you, and it's a part of you."

The young man listened to every single word by heart, and the waves crashing against his mind and causing shipwreck died down into a calm ocean blue.

"... You just need the right person to help extract that part from you the right way."

Poppy hadn't really known where those words had come from—possible her long, long experiences of heartbreak, disappointment, and cherished moments. All built up into a pile and crashing down onto her at once.

"Bit of a poet yourself?"

"I'm trying."

He felt a small smile rest on his face, the corners of his lips tugging upward. The storm inside him was gone, and he suddenly felt at peace.

"What happened?"

"Hm?"

"With you and her."

"How can you tell?"

"It's the what you say about your emotions, you don't really like showing them. But I can tell, this isn't my first time." Silence. "What happened?"

He gripped the bedspread and his fingernails pierced his own skin. "She was having an affair with someone else—and our relationship wasn't really going anywhere."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, if I had known earlier, I wouldn't have bombarded you with all my complaints."

"You're someone who happened to call me at night, meant to call someone else, and we just discussed a rather serious topic. This was worth it."

Poppy laughed. "So, friends?"

"Friends?"

"Well, we did share deep feelings with each other—doesn't that make us friends?"

"Need to be reminded that we're still strangers?"

"And now we're friends."

"Is that how your logic works?"

"All the time."

The young man glanced towards the book on his lap, finger marking the last page he had read. He didn't really feel like reading anymore.

"I think I gotta go."

"Why?"

"Tired."

"Oh." Poppy nodded in understanding, although knowing that he couldn't really see the gesture. "Okay, then. Can I save you in my contacts?"

"Go ahead, stranger."

"Call me Poppy."

"Night, Poppy."

"Wait!" Poppy blurted out when she sensed the guy was about to end the call. "What's your name?"

"... Branch."

And the call ended, leaving Poppy holding her phone to her ear, listening to the long beep signaling that the conversation was over for today.

Maybe she'd call back tomorrow.


	17. Unexpected Phone Calls: Pt.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A is fed up with their girl/boyfriend and decided to break up with them. They end up calling B instead, a complete stranger, and the two engage in a conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to take this moment for several shoutouts:
> 
> **Geekgirles, Tealbull81, harmonydove13, ImafanofFANFICTIONS, riru (Suriru).**
> 
> Love y'all.
> 
> Also, just realized I have more than 15 oneshots to finish! Wish me luck!
> 
> Well, shamefulscrapbook wanted this to be a two-parter, so here's part two! It's gonna be a bit short and less angsty.

"Branch!"

"Hey, Poppy."

For the last two months, ever since the two so-called strangers coincidentally made acquaintances, they had been calling each other every night, talking. Whether it was one minute or three hours, it didn't matter. They were happy to hear each other's voices at the end of the day.

And every night they talked, they built friendship—it was that kind of friendship that bloomed in the center of your heart—that kind of friendship that grew from the seed basking in the warm soil to a vast tree with many ups and downs, many—but not enough to disguise the enormity or the grandeur of such a tree, the sheer brilliance and beauty of it. They understood each other better than anyone, and someone like that was all they needed in their lives.

Poppy had finally broken up with Creek—it had taken a lot of persuading and curse words, but at the end, he had forfeited. And she was back to being single. She was happy with that.

She had learned a lot about the young man who had picked up her unintentional call. Branch Woods worked as an intern at a big architecture firm while taking classes at Stanford University—which had been a rather big surprise for Poppy—while staying at his single dormitory. He had, like her, also stayed out of any relationships. And for some reason, she was glad that he did.

"How was work?" She asked, and she heard a chuckle.

"Same as always. Being an intern's pretty tougher than I thought—still has a high salary, though."

"When are you graduating university again?"

Branch thought and counted. "One more year, and I can escape the evil grasps of education. What about you?"

"Two. But I'm happy the way I am, I'm don't really have anything against education."

"Really? Doesn't listening to stuff you already know from an old man kind of annoy you?"

"Unlike you, I'm not as smart, so... I take notes. Learn from me."

"Sheesh, Like I have anything to learn from you."

"Heh, _you wish_."

"Poppy." The sudden call of her name squeezed out the curiosity right in that moment.

"Yeah?"

"There's something I've been wanting to ask you for a while."

"Hmm?"

"You know I'm not really a 'people' guy—"

"You said that the first tine we talked."

"—and I know it's not really like me to do this, but... I was wondering, if, you know, since we both live in California, we could meet up somewhere? See each other in person?"

"..."

"Poppy?"

"... That, is a wonderful idea, Branch!" Poppy squealed, and Branch almost dropped the phone onto the floor. "I'd absolutely love that!"

"I was kinda nervous you'd decline."

"Why would I? Now, any places you have in mind?"

____________________

The sky was black tranquility married to a poetry of stars. It was the softness that called body and brain to rest and let the heart go to its steady rhythm. Night came as a reward of sorts, a restfulness above to calm the soul.

Branch Woods stood on campus of Stanford University, waiting quietly at the front gates where people would come and go earlier when the sun was up. He wasn't allowed out so late, but the night sky had called his name.

Sweet-smelling rain-washed darkness, sky freckled with stars. Poppy Kingsley stood, standing in front of the one person she'd known and learned from, yet still the same stranger she had met on the phone that very day.

"... Poppy?"

"Branch."

They both weren't sure if this was what they could call a first encounter. It was and it wasn't.

The night sky was awake, and so were they.


	18. Rock On, Sing A Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A is a member of a rock band currently on a world tour, and B is the Prince/Princess of Pop. A's band's next stop is Pop Village, and A and B happen to meet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another amazing request by shamefulscrapbook!
> 
>  **NOTICE:** Trolls never separated into different music tribes.
> 
>  **Warning:** there are spoilers of Trolls World Tour in this oneshot. DO NOT read if you don't want to be spoiled before you see it.

Her band, the _Rock Mekanika_ , were finally going on an actual world tour.

And boy, was Poppy hyped.

"Next stop, Pop Village." Barb called out, followed by several whoops and thumbs up from the others. "This is awesome—I still can't believe we're actually on a tour!"

"Yeah it is!" Carol exclaimed. "Our first girl group, a total success."

"Um, I'm not a girl." Riff pointed out, non-visible eyes hidden behind his beanie as he paused from polishing his silver drumsticks.

"Well, you are now." Queen Barb blew a raspberry, strummed the strings of her prized electric guitar. "Poppy? You've been quiet for a while."

"Sorry, I just can't contain my excitement, I—" She turned around in front of the mirror hanging off the wall, peering over her shoulder. "—wait, do these fishnets make my legs look fat?"

"Sure they do."

"Oh crap, really?"

"Pfft, of course not, Pops. You look great." Barb hopped up from her seat and approached her best friend, staring into Poppy's reflection with a playful smirk. She gave her a firm pat on the back. "Totally rad."

Poppy couldn't put to words how much she loved Barb—sure, she could sometimes be a little _too_ intense, even for a Rock Troll, but she was the greatest friend, a sister. And she wouldn't change Barb for the world.

"Quit the sisterly-romance, and c'mere. We're almost at our next stop." Carol called out, and Poppy, hearing this, rushed over to the tiny windows to take a look.

Pop Village was a lot, lot, _lot_ different from Volcano Rock City—the first difference Poppy noticed were the odd mixture of colors. Green grass and trees, flowers and mushrooms giving off various hues of pink and red and blue, heck, even the trolls were colorful! And the sky was a beautiful blue, so unlike the dark, grey heavens she was familiar with back at home.

"Oh yeah, Pop Village, here we come!" Barb, who had managed to grab her guitar _and_ finish quick touches on Poppy's black and pink messy strands of hair, marched towards the exit. Carol and Riff followed from behind, other Rock Trolls dragging drumsets and lights from behind—desperate to catch up, Poppy chased after Queen Barb.

"Okay, so pay attention." Barb said when Poppy finally managed to catch up with them, hugging her guitar to her chest. "We're going to be meeting the Queen of Pop Village, Queen Rosiepuff—"

"Rosiepuff? Odd name."

"—so give use your best manners, we don't really wanna give off bad impressions. And then, we got band practice straight after, so your asses better not wander off."

"Ugh, if it's one thing I hate about this world tour are the manners." Carol groaned, dragging the 's' nice and long. "So many rules."

"Deal with it, Carol." Barb called out and finally stepped onto the grass. Poppy hopped down onto the ground next to her—blades of greenery tickled her between her toes.

"Queen Barb." A voice caught the Rock Trolls' attention, and they all turned to see an elderly troll with lavender-colored skin, a leaf crown perched on top of her minty green hair worn in a large updo.

"Nice to finally meet you, Queen Rosiepuff. I've heard much about you." Barb said with much enthusiasm—Poppy chuckled.

"Oh, you." Rosiepuff shook her head with a quiet laugh. "Well, Rock Trolls, I'm very glad you decided to stop by in Pop Village, I'm sure our trolls will _love_ your performance."

"We're glad you're letting us perform here, we wouldn't miss it for the world! Thanks, Queen Rosiepuff!"

Riff nudged Poppy with his elbow. "Barb's acting awfully poilte, isn't she?"

"She has to, remember? Good impressions." Poppy whispered back. "Stop talking."

"Allow me to introduce you to my grandson, Branch—" The elderly queen turned around to see nobody, and she muttered something incoherent under her breath. "Oh, that boy." She shook her head as she faced the Rock Trolls once again. "He's a bit of a wanderer—and has very little patience."

"Nah, it's totally fine. We Rock Trolls wander all the time, it's no big deal." Barb snickered.

And meanwhile, as Barb engaged within a long conversation with the Queen of Pop, Poppy found herself entranced by the village itself. It was so insanely different from where she was from, where she had been before. Sure, the other realms had been very interesting. But Pop Village? She had never seen such greenery, such blue skies.

Soon she had slipped away from the small group and was wandering through the forests, eyes feasting upon every new beauty she was seeing. It was so... unnaturally quiet, she could hear a pin drop.

It wasn't long before she heard the faint, distant strumming of a classic guitar.

She pushed through leaves and walked around roots, attracted to the sound, her bare feet crunching against dry leaves of autumn. The sound was growing louder, and even though the instrument wasn't really common from where Poppy was from, she couldn't help but find it pleasant.

And then she found the source of the noise—a teal troll with prussian-colored hair, wearing a leaf-sewn vest and a pair of brown shorts sat underneath a mushroom, back against the stem as he quietly strummed the guitar in his hands. His fingers danced gracefully over the strings, creating a foreign melody so unfamiliar, yet so beautiful and calming.

And then Poppy heard him _sing_.

_I'm only one call away_  
_I'll be there to save the day_  
_Superman got nothing on me_  
_I'm only one call away_

His voice was smooth and clear and quiet yet powerful. Soothing, in a way. It was nothing like rock, and Poppy knew they didn't really call a guy’s voice beautiful, but his was. It was the promise of tomorrow. It was beautiful, and she wished that he would never stop.

_Call me, baby, if you need a friend_  
_I just wanna give you love_  
_C'mon, c'mon, c'mon_  
_Reaching out to you, so take a chance_  
_No matter where you go_  
_You know you're not alone_

His voice rolled over the hills in calming waves. Swells of power rose up in his throat. Poppy couldn't even tell if it was words that came from him. His voice was music and grace. His fingers strummed chords and his head rose as he belted out notes. Her friends could tell her she had a nice voice, but she would never believe them again.

_I'm only one call away_  
_I'll be there to save the day_  
_Superman got nothing on me_  
_I'm only one call away_

The verse had seemingly ended, and the guitar strumming ceased, all that was left was the distinct sounds and songs of nature itself—rustling of leaves on trees and the distant sounds of critters.

Poppy's foot snapped on a twig, and it startled the her when the pop troll jumped to his feet with great reflexes and held out a curved dagger pulled from his hair, pointed right at her—it was lowered the second she was seen.

"Haven't seen you around the village before."

"I'm not from here." Poppy replied. "I'm on a tour, we're performing here."

"Well, that clears things up. You're a Rock Troll. You're part of that famous rock band." The subtle grin on his face couldn't have not been noticed, and Poppy found it cute.

Wait, did she?

"I am." She cleared her throat, shook her head a little to push her hair aside. "What even gave it away, though?"

"Oh, you know; the fishnets, the hair, and the, uh..." He pointed towards the spikey band on her left leg. "... sharp pointy things."

"A real beauty, isn't she?" Poppy proudly reached for her spike headband, secured tightly around her head.

"Not really my cup of tea, but I gotta admit, it's pretty cool."

"Wait, tell me, do the fishnets make my legs look fat?"

"Uh, no?" The troll's eyes widened a bit. "Why?"

"Forget I ever asked you that."

He gave her a slight smile and held out a hand first. "I'm Branch."

She shook on it. "Poppy."

She took this moment to quickly study the troll in front of her. Beautiful teal skin, the breeze billowing the ends of his dark-colored blue hair as if they were the ribbons of a kite. His eyes were the dew in the late afternoon, scattering the nascent rays, ever illuminating her soul.

And the woven crown that wrapped around his hair, tangled with green leaves and twisted with beautiful curves designed with smooth, polished twigs. And a crown meant—

_Branch? Rosiepuff's grandson? Prince Branch?_

"You're a royal."

"The crown?" He scratched the back of his neck. "I mean, yeah. It's not much of a big deal, though. We don't really have much of a division between royals and our subjects."

"I didn't know you were a royal."

"And I definitely didn't know you were in a famous rock band." He chuckled. "The _Rock Mekanika_ is pretty much the only thing our trolls talk about these days. They've really been awaiting your performance."

"They have?" Her eyes widened. "That's awesome!"

"It really is."

"So... I heard you sing." She mentioned, a slight blush creeping onto her face. _Dammit, Poppy—don't be such a softie._ "And it was really, really good."

"Why, thank you." He gave her a warm, kind smile, and the simple gesture sent a shiver up her spine. What was wrong with her today? "That's really sweet of you to say."

"Sweet?" The word was foreign on her lips as it rolled on her tongue. "We don't really use that word with each other, us Rock Trolls—nobody's really referred to me as 'sweet' before. Ya know..." Poppy gestured towards her hair, then her denim patchwork dress.

"There's more in the inside than just the exterior." The prince said. "At least, that's what I think."

"You Pop Trolls are really into all this emotion-y stuff."

He shrugged. "We tend to show how we feel rather than bottle it all in—most of us sing to express them."

Just then, the thin band on Branch's wrist rang out with a soft 'ding', and a small blue flower blossomed with a gentle glow. He lifted it up, gave it a quick glance. "Hey, whaddya know? It's Hug Time."

And before Poppy knew it, she was being hugged by the Prince of Pop, who just also happened to be warm-hearted, cute, and super hot. And she felt like melting. She wasn't really too familiar with hugs, all the hugs she knew were one of those one-armed one-second-embraces which were done when congratulating someone else. And she knew she should have hated it, but...

She didn't. It felt amazing, his arms around her and tugging her close, and she felt so safe and secure.

And the feeling was gone as quick as it had come when he finally pulled away, hands behind his back as he rubbed the bottom of his feet against the dirt underneath him, rocking back a forth a little.

"What's Hug Time?"

"Oh, it's just a little something that has been a tradition in the village for quite a while—all Pop Trolls have Hug Time once an hour, and we hug whatever troll is nearby. It's basically how we show that we care for others."

"We don't do that back at Volcano Rock City."

"I don't think you guys would, really. You don't seem like trolls who'd enjoy hugging. I'm surprised you even accepted mine—I half expected you to pull away." Branch stared at her, she stared back—her cheeks were getting a tad bit hotter.

"It felt nice."

"Glad it did."

"Poppy!" She spun her head around, hearing the distant calls of supposedly Barb. " _Poppy_!"

"Dammit, gotta go." She gave the teal troll a quick wave before running back to the direction she had come from—she didn't get to see the prince's reaction.

When she finally found Barb, Carol and Riff, Barb grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. "Where were you, girl? We were supposed to be doing band rehearsals."

"Oh, don't get your knickers in a twist, _Barbie_." Barb raised an eyebrow at the old pet name. "I met a Pop Troll, got a bit caught up in the conversation. They're weird, but they're hot."

"What?"

" _I mean_ —" Poppy cleared her throat. "—that there are, uh, _a lot_. Yeah. Many, many of them." She plastered a big grin onto her face. "Hella lot."

"... Sure, weirdo." Barb gave her a look before nodding back towards the directon of the village. "It's getting late, we might as well head in. Pops, you _have_ to see the place where they're letting us stay at—"

And as Barb pulled her by the wrist, Poppy swore to herself that within the next few days of her time in Pop Village, she _would_ spill how she felt about this prince, and either get a kiss or a number. And _that_ was a promise she was going to keep.

____________________

Branch stood inside his pod, leaning against the windowsill and watching over the village—at this time of day, he'd usually be playing life guard of town, seeing if there were any trolls up to any dangerous stuff. He loved all his Trolls equally, but couldn't bear to see them get hurt just because of his lack of caution.

"Branch? Are you in here?"

The door for his pod opened up, and his grandmother entered the small room. "Branch, sweetie, I told you that you were supposed to help me greet the new rock band."

"Sorry, grandma, I swear I forgot." He said truthfully. "I'll be there next time, I promise."

With a long sigh, the elderly queen slowly made her way up to her beloved grandson. "What are you up to?"

"Oh, you know. The usual. Watching to see if anyone's hurt."

"Branch, sweetie." She shook her head. "You don't have to be so careful, don't put too much pressure on yourself."

"But I _do_ need to be careful—I really want to become a good king, grandma." He replied, keeping his eyes outside. "I wanna be a good ruler—just like you."

She couldn't help but chuckle. "You'll do just fine, dear."

He watched the sunset at the horizon, spreading its largess into a grateful sky. Rich hues of red blended with oranges, purples, crimsons. Branch's spirit soared at the sight as he was transported into a timeless existence.

His eyes fell onto a certain bough of a tree, in which he knew the guest pods to be located at—and he soon found a familiar pink troll, strumming away at her electric guitar on a smaller limb of the tree, attatched to that one bough. The quiet notes and tunes made its way through the afternoon atmosphere.

Rosiepuff looked out the window and towards what her grandson was so intently looking at. "Is it the new Rock Troll? The pink one?"

"What about Poppy?" He finally snapped out of his trance and turned to face his grandmother.

"Is she pretty to you?"

"I mean, I guess she's pretty—wait, grandma, why are you asking me this?"

Without a word, she spun away from the window and again made it to the exit of his private pod. "Branch, can I give you a simple piece of advice?"

"About what?"

"Ask her out." She said very briefly. "Ask the pretty Rock Troll out first, and you won't regret it later on."

"Grandma!" His cheeks burned a bright red, teal contrasting strongly with the color. "Don't!"

"Listen to your grandmother, Branch." She called out as the petal slowly dropped open, giving her an exit. "I tell you, you won't regret it. And I'm sure the pretty Rock Troll will like it too."

" _Grandma_!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _One Call Away_ belongs to the amazing Charlie Puth.


	19. NOTICE

So, here’s the thing... I won’t be able to upload as often as I used to. Things got bad around the house, and I really wanna write for you guys, but... it’s gonna take a while until I get my hands on a device I can write stuff on here again.

Thank you guys for the support, the updates will be slow, but I promise you, they’ll eventually come.


	20. Rock On, Sing A Song: Pt.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A is a member of a rock band currently on a world tour, and B is the Prince/Princess of Pop. A's band's next stop is Pop Village, and A and B happen to meet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two of this request by shamefulscrapbook! I thought I might finish this one up real quick before beginning slower updates. Enjoy!

Branch would usually take every single one of his prince duties _very_ seriously—he'd be the one to organize and plan the perfect parties, prepare the perfect b-day bashes, host every single competition and game with all the enthusiasm he could muster.

And it exhausted him, to say the least. And despite the fact that he _loved_ being a prince and a future king, and that he _loved_ helping out others, he couldn't have helped but admit that he would want to walk away from his responsibilities just for a few days.

Meeting Poppy seemed to have been the _perfect_ opportunity.

It was safe to say that the encounter they had after that day late at night was entirely a coincidence—she had been on a midnight walk to clear her head, so had he.

When they bumped into each other that night, it had begun with quick 'hi's and 'hello's, nothing too serious. And then the conversation dragged on a bit more further, and both of them had never felt so satisfied and comfortable in their lives.

_"You know, this is nice. We should do this again."_

He didn't know why those words decided to go tumbling out of his mouth, but he meant every single syllable. And he was more confident than he had ever been.

_"So... you mean like a date?"_

_"Like a date."_

And for Branch, meeting this young, beautiful Rock Troll meant doing whatever it takes.

So the next day, when he was supposed to be sitting in his pod planning the best _Catch Your Friend Day_ festival ever, he quietly slipped out and went back to the mushroom he had played his song next to. And he waited.

Poppy herself hadn't mentioned to Branch that she would have to skip band practice to meet up with him, but all the tour stuff seemed a bit less important than the prince.

She couldn't tell why, it just felt right.

And when she found Branch leaning against the stem of the mushroom, hands shoved in the pockets of his shorts, the teal color illuminating in the dazzling sunlight, she couldn't help but forget about concern from missing the rehearsal.

"Branch."

Hearing his name, he turned to face the pink Rock Troll, and a smile blossomed on his face. "Poppy, hey." He walked over and pulled her into another hug as a form of greeting—which she gladly snuggled into.

"I was wondering when you'd come."

"I ran a bit late, I was in a bit of a hurry." Poppy picked at the loose strings of her denim dress with a shrug. "I'm not, uh, _too_ late, am I?"

"We got the whole day, it's never too late."

And Branch then slipped her hand into his and Poppy immediately felt like squealing in excitement—he had just started holding her hand, just like that, and she couldn't put to words how ecstatic she was.

"So, what do you usually do as prince?"

"Well, a bunch of stuff. I scrapbook, I make detailed plans for all sorts of parties, I keep check of the everyday-holidays just in case I miss any, because that would be a complete disaster, oh no." He shook his head. " _A disaster, I tell you._ "

"Wait, you're a royal and all you do is plan parties?" Poppy raised an eyebrow and glanced towards him. "Isn't that a bit _too_ easy?"

"You try being in my shoes and see if you can walk a mile in them. You wouldn't last a minute." A smug grin sat on his face.

"Uh, yeah I could. Hell, I could even last a whole year. Being a prince means everyone looking up to you, it'd be awesome."

"Well..." Branch gave her an apprehensive look. "Not always."

"Huh? Whaddya mean?"

"Of course they look up to royals, since they're technically leaders." He replied, and Poppy could feel his fingers squeeze her hand a little bit more tighter. Her heart fluttered. "But they expect you to do so many things for them, and if you make a mistake—" He made a quick show of a bombshell dropping into his hand.

"Damn." Poppy said, squeezing her lips tight. "Just because of a silly lil' mistake? That's a bit cruel."

"Which is why I have to perfect myself." Branch said. "Make sure nobody in the village gets hurt—if they do, it's my responsibility, nobody else's."

It was about time Poppy noticed Branch's rather protective nature. She could tell—the way he was always alert, always trying to do things right, the love he felt for the village and his Pop Trolls. In all honesty, it was very, very cute.

So frickin' adorable.

"You don't, uh, necessarily _have_ to be perfect." She commented as they finally came to a clear area, not too far off from the village itself—she could hear the bustle of trolls in the distance. "You just, ya know, need the endurance to try your best to help as much as you can."

"I don't know, I just like things to be in order." He muttered and gently kicked a cloud of dirt along the way. "For me, perfection is... everything."

Perfection. For Poppy, there was really no such thing as perfect. Everything seemed to have its flaws at the end of the day, something they had to fix for a better tomorrow.

But in Branch, she could see no flaws. No flaws at all. Maybe just a bit of insecurity. But other than that, he was absolutely _perfect_.

"You know, I didn't think I'd be someone admiring a Rock Troll—"

_Admiring?_

"—but you're pretty."

She almost choked and sputtered, but cleared her throat to make it pass. "You think. I'm pretty."

"I'm pretty sure that's what I said."

"Holy shit," Poppy muttered, a small smile growing onto her face. He hadn't seen Branch as a 'confidence' guy, but he apparently was. "You actually think I'm pretty?"

He slowed to a stop right at the entrance of the village, took both her hands—she inwardly squealed. "You're beautiful—so stop questioning it." Branch brought his hand up to her face and brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear—and she blushed furiously. One of the actual good things about being a pink troll was that blushes weren't as visible to the naked eye.

Not that they weren't there, though.

"No one's ever really called me beautiful before either."

"I'm surprised." He said, eyes widening the slightest bit. "Because calling you by something otherwise is nearly impossible."

_So frickin' romantic. And so, so, so hot._ Poppy exhaled, lips slightly parted as she gazed into his handsome face. And his eyes, his eyes were ever so beautiful that she felt like she could sink into them. And their lips were so, so close from touching, almost ghosting over each other—

" _Branch_!"

They immediately pushed off each other and Branch whipped his head to the side. "Ugh, Cooper." He muttered and quickly turned back to Poppy as he began walking away. "See you later, back at the spot, eight o'clock tonight?"

The dazzling smile he sent in her direction made her shiver.

She nodded in response and he waved, eventually disappearing into the crowds of trolls at the marketplace. Soon, he was nowhere to be seen, swallowed by the surroundings and leaving her alone. Everything suddenly seemed a bit duller than they were before.

She knew she had already spent so much time with Branch that she had completely missed band rehearsal—considering playing the tunes and notes for self-practice, Poppy reached for her favorite prized guitar strapped to her back like always.

She found a rather quiet spot near the pods and climbed on top of a rock, sitting cross-legged on the top flat surface. Skilled hands began strumming familiar notes, and Poppy mouthed the lyrics, nodding her head to the beat instead of head-banging, since she didn't really want to make a spectacle of herself in Pop Village.

"Poppy?"

She lifted her head to see Barb standing in front of the rock, hands placed firmly on her waist and brows knitted—she was _not_ happy.

"... Barb."

"You've already missed three band sessions, Poppy. _Three_." Barb pointed out, throwing her hands into the air in exasperation. "I let you go without any question the first two times, but now I wanna know what the hell is going on with you."

"I—" Poppy stopped herself before she could say anything. Barb was her best friend, and Poppy knew she never had the heart to lie to her. She just couldn't.

But then again, if she told Barb, she there was the possibility where she could get Branch in trouble as well—and that was the last thing she wanted happening.

"Poppy." Barb sighed loudly and dug her heel into the grass below her. "This tour is really important to me—it's one of the most crucial experiences in my life. Why can't you take the whole thing a bit more seriously?"

The air was so brittle it could snap, and if it didn't, Barb might've. The tension between the two was so insanely thick someone could slice through it with a knife.

"..."

"Still not saying anything?"

"..."

"I thought we trusted each other."

The hurt in Barb's voice, even though it was clear she had tried to desperately hide it, was evident, and Poppy couldn't help but feel guilty. If anything, Rock Trolls might have been rough, might have been asses—but they were loyal.

"Barb, I..." She finally opened her mouth to speak. "... I guess I owe you and the others an explanation."

"Well, yeah, spit it out. Whatever it is, I can take it."

"... The times I missed all those band rehearsals... it was because I was seeing Branch—the Prince of Pop."

"And 'seeing' here means...?" Barb raised an eyebrow, urging her to continue.

"Ya know... just seeing each other. Talking, taking walks... Barb, I think I... I think I _love him_."

The Queen of Rock's jaw dropped open. "No way, you can't possibly mean that. You _love him_? You two met yesterday, Poppy. Get your head outta the clouds."

"Barb, you don't get it." Poppy retorted, gently setting her electric guitar aside. "I felt this connection the second I saw him, and I _know_ for a fact that he felt the same—it's like we're actually meant to be! I know it sounds stupid, but that's what I believe."

"It just doesn't _sound_ stupid—it _is_ stupid. What if he hurts you? What then? Am I supposed to stand and watch?"

"Branch won't hurt me!"

"And how the _hell_ do you know?"

"He's not that kind of troll, Barb." Poppy scowled. "You don't understand."

"Of course I don't, because all I have for a heart is a solid, cold rock."

"Barb, c'mon, don't be like that."

"No, Poppy, _you_ don't be like that." Barb snapped. "Listen, Poppy—I don't know how nice this prince is or whatever, but if you two keep on messing with this bullshit, this'll be the last time we ever play at Pop Village."

Poppy's eyes widened. "Barb, no, you can't—"

"I can, and I _will_ , Poppy!"

She immediately fell silent, head dipping and hands clenched into loose fists at her side. Poppy didn't say anything further.

"... Rehearsal's at nine. Show up."

And then Queen Barb was gone.

____________________

Branch could tell from the second she found her that something was wrong.

"Poppy?"

The Rock Troll didn't say anything in response, only glanced towards him for a quick second before returning to gaze to the ground.

"... Say something. Please."

She sighed and reached for her messy hair, fixing several strands that drooped down in front of her face. "I totally blew it with Barb."

"Your queen?"

"And my band leader." She added. "I've been missing all my band rehearsals—"

"How come?"

"... To come meet you."

"Poppy." Branch took a seat down beside her and pulled his knees to his chest. "Why didn't you just say you didn't have time?"

"Because I'd rather be with you than practice rock songs with my friends." She admitted quietly, twisting her bangs with her finger. "I enjoy the time I spend with you."

"But Poppy," He cocked his head a bit and peered over to meet her eyes. "... you shouldn't miss out on what you need to do with your friends just because you feel like doing something else. Especially when it's completely necessary."

"I know, I'm sorry." She didn't know where all these emotions were flooding in from—this wasn't like her. She was never one to curl up and speak how she was feeling when she was upset. Poppy used to like keeping to herself.

"Don't apologize to me; apologize to Queen Barb and your friends." He gave her a gentle smile. "I'm sure they'll forgive you."

"Branch... I... I think I _love you_."

"I love you like you're the last of my kind. It's as if you speak the same language as I, yet no other is able. To be around you is like finally not being afraid—as if all my life I've been isolated, in a windowless room, in a doorless room... and then suddenly you walk in as if strolling over a summer meadow. While I breathe I am yours in mind, body, and soul." Branch took both of her hands in his. "Poppy, will you—"

The sound of a twig snapping echoed throughout the dark forest, and both of them froze at the spot. The silence made her blood as cold as the autumnal air that crept into her veins. Bereft of any wind the leaves hung limp until they fell of their own accord, there was no whispering noise or rustling. It was as if nature conspired to keep her in the dark, not daring to whisper the reassurance she craved. The single noise had brought her heart racing as fast as a gunshot. Branch, ears perked up and consciousness high alert, slowly got to his feet, eyes darting from side to side.

"Stay down." He muttered, and Poppy obeyed, hugging her knees to her chest and lowering her head until her eyes met the floor. She reached behind her back and gripped the head of her guitar, just in case she necessarily had to use it as a weapon.

Branch glanced around for signs of movement, anything unnatural. It was rather common for a critter or a dangerous predator to be out from their hideaways to hunt, and trolls were the key meal. And he finally found a dark, shadowy figure hiding in through the trees and the thick mass of leaves and bushes—target locked, he pounced.

He dragged whatever it was out from the bushes and slammed their body onto the ground. Branch then immediately straddled them with his thighs, pinned them down, and gave them a hard, strong punch in the face. Poppy flinched, and her fingers wrapped around her guitar tighter.

"Ow, what the _fuck_ is wrong with you, you psycho?" The figure kicked back, and with a growl, Branch formed a fist, reared his hand back to land another punch—

"Branch, _stop_!" Poppy cried out, and he did, fist hovering in midair as his head snapped back towards her, breath labored from the effort of holding the squirming creature down on the ground. Poppy could recognize that voice anywhere, and there was no denying it.

"... Barb?"

"Barb? As in..." Hearing this, Branch immediately got to his feet and offered the fallen figure a hand—they grumbled something incoherent and swatted it away. Poppy could then finally see Barb's face, illuminated by the pale moonlight, her nose bloodied.

"Barb? What are you doing here?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Barb grunted. "I'm trying to see if Mr. Prince Branch here is going to hurt my best friend or not."

"I'm sorry, what's happening?" Branch asked, brows knitted in utter confusion. Barb turned to him with a chuckle, and Poppy stared.

"Dude, you can sure throw a punch."

Branch paled. "Queen Barb, I'm so, so sorry, I literally had _no_ idea it was you—"

"No problem, bro." She snickered and lazily wiped the blood trickling from her nose with the back of her hand. "It's been a while since I've gotten into a fight this intense—felt pretty good. Ha, nostalgia, am I right?" She playfully nudged him in the arm with her elbow.

"Wait, Barb." Poppy called out. "You're not mad at him for punching you?"

She shrugged in response. "Nah." Barb replied and turned back to face the prince. She held out a bloody hand, and Branch stared at it with something that seemed like half-disgust and half-confusion, but with a dash of admiration. "You fight good, I respect that." Branch gave her a quick nod before carefully taking her hand, shaking it. 

"But remember this, boy toy—" She leaned in and her lips hovered right in front of his ear. "You hurt Poppy," She made a quick show of cutting her neck across the throat. "... you're dead to me. Got it?"

Branch swallowed and nodded, and Barb gave him a satisfied hum before turning around back towards the village after giving Poppy a firm pat on the back. "Don't be late for practice, Poppy." She called out. "And so help me, if you miss out on any more rehearsals just to see your little boyfriend here, I'll smash your favorite guitar."

Poppy's jaw dropped open. " _My guitar_ —"

"Yup!" For the last time, she turned around and gave her two 'rock on' hand gestures before completely being swallowed by the darkness. They both stared at the spot where she had vanished off into the night before Branch opened his mouth.

"... Did she just call me your boyfriend?"

"Did she?" Poppy nervously rubbed the back of her neck. "Uh, maybe? I guess she did."

"Wait, so if I love you, and you love me, what does that make us?" He asked innocently, and Poppy sputtered.

"Uh... you tell me."

"No, you tell me."

"You're the one who's supposed to tell _me_!"

"When did you even come to that conclusion?"

"Right now, obviously! You say it!"

"Am I your boyfriend now?"

" _Yes_!"

"... Why are we yelling?"

"To be honest, I don't have a single clue."

After that, when they both made the whole thing official and also decided that the awkwardness was too much to bear, they both hugged, bid each other a goodbye and headed back to their respective duties.

And the night grew deeper, and time passed on.

____________________

Poppy bounced up and down in her seat, hands gripping her guitar tightly. Another show, another performance, and another chance to rock herself out while letting others enjoy the whole thing.

"Pops." Barb walked towards her and bent over, peering in her direction to meet her eyes. "Nervous?"

"Nervous? Hell, why would I be nervous? I was born ready!"

Barb threw her head back with a laugh and pat her on the back. "That's the spirit, girl."

"Poppy."

Hearing her name called, the pink Rock Troll turned her head to find the source of the voice—and she couldn't believe what she was looking at.

It was Branch, but he looked so, so different. His usually neat prussian blue-colored hair was now black with crimson red strands, styled into a messy mullet. His brown shorts were replaced by a pair of black leather pants. He had spike wristbands and there were several silver hoop earrings as well—but what most stood out, Poppy realized, was that his vest was completely gone, leaving him shirtless. There were many menacing-looking rock tattoos on his skin, and Poppy couldn't help but gape. His crown was nowhere to be seen.

"Branch!" Her jaw dropped open. "Are you... are you going _rock_ on me?"

"Oh, no. This is just for the occasion, thought I might dress up for it." He spread his arms to the side and looked down at his attire. "How do I look?"

She took this short moment to admire his body—his torso, his arms, and his teal skin altogether—he looked so goddamn hot, she had to stop herself from kissing him right there on the spot.

"... Like a true rocker." She said softly and smiled. He smiled back, and Poppy almost melted.

"Whoa, boy toy. Is that you?" Barb stared at Branch in almost awe. "Dude, you look totally _sick_!"

"Riff over there helped me out." Branch chuckled and nodded towards the skinnier Rock Troll who stood twirling his drumsticks in both hands. Before Poppy could say anything else, the crowd outside began to cheer, and he slowly began to back away. "Ooh, that's my cue. Good luck, you guys!" He then hurried out onto the stage, pushing the thick, black curtains aside and was immediately greeted by blinding lights, cheers, and whistles.

" _How are we doing tonight, Troll Village_?"

There was a big uproar, and Branch broke into a smile. "Today, as your host, Branch, I'm glad to bring you to the biggest, baddest, dopest rock band in the history of trolls. Y'all know who?"

There was another cheer, and some trolls even began chanting. Branch glanced back towards the closed curtains, knowing everybody was in position. "Let's give it up for... the _Rock Mekaniks_!"

And Poppy then saw the curtains open before her very eyes, bestowing the light upon her she had wished to see for so long. She stood firm on her feet, hands holding her electric guitar, and she looked far beyond the crowd, taking in the screams, the yells, the cheers. And she was ready to perform.

____________________

The concert had been a success, and Poppy had never felt more alive. Pop Village had been wonderful, it had been so, so perfect.

She didn't want to leave.

Poppy sat at the edge of the village over a small cliff she found as she awaited her ride to the next tour destination, Prince Branch right by her side—his fingers entwined with hers.

"You did great today."

"Thanks."

Stars filled the sky like pale corn into freshly turned ground. It was the promise of life in the darkness, a sense of warmth springing from the cold. It was a vastness to bring humbleness and an eternal space to bring gratitude for the coziness of home. No matter the years that passed, Poppy saw each night sky as a fresh gift given anew. It was the moment anyone that knew her would see her eyes smile and her breathing deepen just a little.

"... I don't wanna go."

"But you have to." Branch said quietly, bare feet swinging back and forth as they dangled over the edge. "You have a big tour to finish."

"I know, but I..." She sighed and turned to face him. "I wanna stay here. With you."

"I'll always be with you."

"But, Branch—"

Before she could say any further, he kissed her and the world fell away. It was slow and soft, comforting in ways that words would never be. His hand rested below her ear, his thumb caressing her cheek as their breaths mingled. She ran her fingers down his spine, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them and she could feel the beating of his heart against her chest. When he finally pulled away for air, she instantly missed the lovely heat curling within her.

"Branch..."

"I'll always be with you, alright, Poppy? I'll come to visit."

"Promise me?"

"Pinky promise."

When her ride away from Pop Village finally arrived, Poppy bid the love of her life goodbye and she set off to a new realm. It was time for her to leave, for good. She walked towards the troll she surely was going to miss most and she just hugged him. She hugged him and sobbed into his chest. She didn't want to let go because she knew that if she let go, she won't be able to hold him again for a long time. "Branch, I'll miss you so, so much." she whispered.

"I'll be there with you even if you won't be able to see me. I'll always be there." He said back to her and just like that she got the slightest glimmer of hope. She pulled away from him and gripped his hand tightly. "I love you." She said and with one last tear shedding down my face, she let go. This was it. This was goodbye. She ambled her way to Barb, who stood at the opened gate and before she stepped inside, she looked back one last time wishing this would just all be a dream. But it wasn't. It was reality and reality hurt more than dreams.

But the smile on his face somehow told her everything was going to be alright, and that she'd see him again no matter what.

Branch was _her_ troll, and nothing was going to change that.


	21. You And The Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dialogues to use:
> 
> 1\. “I might just kiss you.”  
> 2\. “Listen. No, really listen.”
> 
> A comforts B with, starting with angst and ending with fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sort of like a challenge imafanofFANFICTIONS has given me. Wish me luck, let’s see if I can actually add both of these into one cheesy oneshot.
> 
> A bit of angst.

“Poppy?”

“Yes, Branch?”

“What do you think would have happened if I hadn’t gotten my colors back?”

Stars shone as sugar spilt over black marble, glistening in the sun. The night sky was such a welcome sight, appearing like magic at each sunset, promising to return as she faded in dawn's first light. There were times in the daytime, under skies of blue, Poppy would think of those faraway stars and how they'd return after the shadows blended into the dark.

“Your colors?”

“You know, my colors. Back before all this? When the bergens were still our foes?”

The sky was black tranquility married to a poetry of stars. It was the softness that called body and brain to rest and let the heart go to its steady rhythm. Night came as a reward of sorts, a restfulness above to calm the soul.

“Well... why do you ask?”

“I just find myself thinking about it a lot these days.”

The night sky stood an inky canopy of darkness freckled only by the fewest of stars, where just hours ago it had been a blue summer's day. The rain came, oblivious to the life it gave. It washed the world, quenching soil and the life whom depended upon it. In either warmth or coldness, sunlight or moonlight, rain came, humble to its role. It was the percussion to the birdsong and the bringer of brightness to every hue of bark and leaf.

Branch lay on the bed in Poppy’s homey pod, arms and legs spread out wide as he stared up at the ceiling. Poppy, meanwhile, sat on the floor at the foot of her mattress, scrapbooking without a care in the world.

“You wouldn’t sing. You wouldn’t dance. You wouldn’t be lying in bed like this because you can’t possibly walk back to the bunker in the rain. And most importantly, we wouldn’t be alive.” She turned to peer over the edge of the bed to catch a glimpse of his hair. “I owe you a lot.”

“...”

“Branch?”

“Do you... remember all the things I used to say to you?”

Rain fell like God's own poetry; each drop was a single letter in a song that took eons to sing. It had always been music, always called to her in ways she couldn’t explain. When the patter of the drops tumbled from grey skies the melody brought serenity no matter the chaos in her life. Rain. Blessed rain.

“ _I can’t believe you’re gonna be queen one day._ ”

“I mean, yeah. Kinda. But it’s all in the past, let bygones be bygones, right?”

“You know I never meant any of those things, right? Everything I said.”

“...”

“ _Poppy?_ ”

“Of course.”

The night was starless and the moon was covered my murky clouds that blended in with the rest of the sky.

“You know that I would have rather taken a knife to my skin that speak those words so cold.“

“Branch, don’t say that.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“And I forgive you. You’ve changed, Branch. You’re still you, but you’re better.”

“I wish I were.”

The faint lingering lilac sky fading into the shadow. As if it was a routine, the shimmering sparkles of star brilliantly silhouetted into the darkness. A trembling gush of wind inaudibly drifted across the skyline.

“Poppy.” Branch slowly rolled over and perched himself up on his elbows. Poppy set her favorite pair of scissors down to listen. “I still can’t forgive myself.

“... _What’s wrong with me?_ ”

“Oh, Branch.” She ran her hand through his thick, rich, prussian blue-colored hair. “Nothing’s wrong with you.”

“You can’t be sure.”

“You’re still coping. I know it’s hard.”

“To be honest, Poppy? I don’t think I can ever forgive myself for all those years I stowed myself away. I just wanted to be alone.”

It seemed unfair that no matter how much he strived to be the troll his conscience wanted him to be, it would keep taunting him with his failures. Each time the regrets reemerged he would diligently analyze them again, hoping that this time his mind would be satisfied with his self professed remorse, but it never was. Like an unforgiving spectre it would be back tomorrow to haunt him all over again.

Poppy slowly got to her feet, now completely oblivious of all her scrapbooking material scattered on the floor and plopped down onto the mattress beside him. She curled her arms around him into a hug, burying her nose into his neck and deeply inhaling his scent.

“Oh, Branch.”

“... Poppy, _I need help._ ”

She pulled away and took both of his clammy hands in hers, gave them a nice, reassuring squeeze. Poppy bent over the slightest bit and leaned in, trying to get his eyes to meet hers.

“Listen.”

He lifted his head slightly, but his longing gaze still averted her.

“No, _really_ listen.”

She carefully tuck her hand underneath his chin and gently brought his head up to look at her.

He looked at her with those blue eyes touched by storm clouds. She had never seen any emotion in them other than contempt. But now they embraced the wind. A brief gust before returning to a calm sea.

“... Branch, you are not alone anymore. Look around you.” She smiled, and for him, her smile was one of happiness growing, much as a spring flower opens. He could see how it came from deep inside to light her eyes and spread into every part of her. “You have us. And we all love you for who you are and what you’ve done.

“The words you used to use towards us? They’re all in the past. They mean nothing now. I forgive you, we all have. What matters is what you do _now_. We all love the new Branch. If it weren’t for you, I don’t know how I would have done all this alone. You mean everything to me. So please, forgive yourself too.”

“Poppy...”

“I love you, Branch, always will. And I’m never giving up on you, even if they world comes crashing down onto me.”

“I love you, too.”

Love transformed their emotions into a healthy perspective and the kind of good thoughts that build their better selves.

“Oh, Branch.” She smirked and leaned into him, their foreheads touched. “ _I might just kiss you._ "

“Go ahead and do it already.”

And so they did, and the kiss was one steeped in a passion that ignited. It was their promise of realness, of the primal desire that lived in them all. And with it, it told each other that they were awake, connected within, that they embraced themselves rather than hide as a copy of their old past selves.

They let the rain come, for they were safe and warm in their home and each other’s arms.


	22. Small And Medium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A has to come into B’s changing room and help them out of a particularly tight pair of pants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another fluffy cute request from shamefulscrapbook! Here it is:

For Branch Woods, shopping at the mall with Poppy Kingsley was a real-life nightmare.

Three times a week, Poppy would drag him to the mall after school and spend the _whole day_ there, jumping from one clothing store to the other just to try on a new outfit. Branch himself wasn’t too big on fashion—and whenever Poppy stuffed a jacket or a pair of jeans into his arms, saying ‘this would look _stunning_ on you’, he’d immediately refuse and give it back to her.

She always kept her smile, though.

And right now, as Branch waited in front of the changing rooms for Poppy to try on a new pair of pants she had picked out and had desperately wanted to try them on, holding a basketful of shirts and dresses, he began to question his own sanity.

“Branch!”

But the thing that annoyed Branch most of all was that he _couldn’t_ deny Poppy, no matter how hard he tried, and whenever she’d beg him to go to the mall with her, he just couldn’t bring himself to say no.

“Branch!”

But he would regret it every single time, because Poppy would make him stand for hours, making him take a look at every single outfit she tried on, because according to Poppy, he had ‘a great sense of fashion’.

The plain white shirt, the black hoodie, and the boring pair of jeans he was wearing did _not_ prove it whatsoever.

“ _Branch_!”

“ _What_?” He snapped back, turning his head towards changing room number 5, frowning. “What do you want, Poppy?”

“Can you come in here for a second?”

“No.”

“Branch, c’mon, I need help with something.”

“Take care of whatever it is _yourself_.”

“I tried, Branch! But I can’t do it myself, and you’re the only one who can help me with this! C’mon, Branch, it’ll just take ten seconds—no, five, just five. Branch, you’re my best friend, best friends help each other out! Branch, it’ll only take a few seconds, Branch, _pleeaaaaaassssseeeeeee—_ ”

_Oh, fuck me._

He tossed the curtains open rather aggressively and stepped into the small changing room. “What the _hell_ do you need, Poppy? What could have _possibly_ made you _so_ desperate that you just _had_ to—“

It surprised him to see Poppy sitting on the small wooden chair, hands gripping the waistband of her pants and lips curled into a smile—what was she even doing?

“Poppy—“

“Branch, I need you to help me out of these.” She gestured towards her pink jeans and flexed her knee in front of him. “I tried on a small size, but these are _way_ tight—“

Oh. So his _female_ friend wanted him to help her out of a pair of jeans.

_No a chance in hell_.

Branch felt his cheeks heat up as he turned around. “No, Poppy. I’m out.”

She grabbed his hoodie and yanked him back inside. “Branch, c’mon, do you _really_ want me to stay in these all day?”

“Yes, because while you’re sitting there trapped in the evil grasps of these hideous jeans, I’ll finally be able to escape.”

“Branch, _please_ help me out here.”

“Fine.” He finally muttered and stood over her. What was he supposed to do now? He’d never tugged a pair of tight pants off a _girl_ before.

“Oh, and Branch, could you maybe tell them to get me a medium after you’re done?”

Branch wanted to scream in frustration.

He grabbed the bottom ends of the jeans and gripped them tight, digging his fingernails into the cloth. He kneeled down on the floor.

_Let’s just get this over with._

“I’m going to pull on three, alright?” He quickly glanced up at Poppy and immediately dropped his gaze the second his eyes met hers. “And when I pull, you try and tug down the waistband and shake your legs a bit.”

“Got it crystal clear.”

He rolled his eyes and gripped the jeans tighter. “One, two, three—” Branch began pulling at the tight material, gritting his teeth with effort. The jeans were much tighter on Poppy than he had expected—they clung on tight to her _perfect_ legs and his fingernails were starting to hurt.

“Poppy, shake your leg a little—”

“What do you _think_ I’m doing?”

“Don’t be get all _sassy_ with me, Poppy—”

“That’s the spirit, Branch! Pull!”

With a grunt, he gave them a hard tug and the bottoms of her jeans slipped down over her ankles. He then gave another tug, this time managing to pull them down a few more inches.

“Is this enough?”

“Just a bit more, maybe?”

With a few more finger-hurting pulls, he managed to find the waistband finally down to her knees, and above that, he found the peachy, white, smooth skin of her bare thighs—oh my _fucking_ god.

“There, I think you’re good now.” He removed his hands from her jeans and noticed that he had managed to fall back on his haunches on the ground, the soles of his shoes pressed firmly against the walls of the changing room, Poppy’s right foot between his legs—fuck, fuck, _fuckity fuck_!

“Yup, that looks good.” Poppy stumbled to her feet just as Branch slowly started to get to his feet—and his cheeks started burning hot when she shimmied them off, because after a few leg-pulls and shakes of her feet, he was there half-standing, half-sitting against the mirrored wall, staring at his friend only in her shirt and underwear. Those perfect, skinny legs—

_Branch Woods, stop thinking about her legs, goddamn it!_

With a content sigh, she shamelessly stood in her undergarments and picked up the pair of jeans from the floor, then stuffed it into his arms. “Take those back, get me that medium size I asked for earlier, yeah?” The smile on her big face made Branch blush like fucking crazy. He was still having a hard time processing the fact that Poppy was standing in front of him, without a care in the world, half-naked.

“Whatever.” He muttered and looked down at the floor, carefully scooting away inside of the cramped space away from Poppy—and his heart almost jumped out of his throat when she wrapped him into a big hug.

“Oh, Branch, I love you.”

Before he could awkwardly wrap his arms around her (he _did_ manage to notice that they were trapped), Poppy let go of him and he stumbled through the curtains back into the alleyway of changing rooms.

He had never felt so confused over just five words, and that was _not_ normal—he was an expert in vocabulary.

So he stood there for a while, clutching the pair of pink jeans in his hands before asking the clerk for a medium.


	23. Eras Of Burning Fire: Pt.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A is a princess of the kingdom and B is the captain of royal guards. Every morning, A sneaks around to watch B train.
> 
> Medieval/AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone—riru (Suriru), maybe—requested a part two for this based on a post-story and some background, so here’s major angst and fluff.

War.

A three lettered word that could obliterate everything. War tore people apart, even those who were once close as brothers. Victims of war were constantly drowned in tidal waves of guilt, regret, and pain. Pain wasn’t simple; it was physical, emotional, and mental; all victims of war felt all three types. In war, nowhere was safe. Nowhere.

And Branch Woods knew.

The night rode in on a horse of pure midnight velvet, beckoned by the stars under a the glow of a full moon. As the colours of the day rested, perhaps dreaming of the morrow, the hillside became its monochrome beauty, shapes that made an ever-changing, ever-present puzzle, question and answer united.

He sat in the middle of the room, legs kneeled underneath him and his hands holding his father’s sword—it was a true beauty, shining in the light of the fire as if it were fashioned from the brilliant rays themselves. The broad silvery metal was warmed. As the moon, it was a reflection of the sunlight, of love's own energy and the duty of protection.

It wouldn’t be long now until he had to step out onto the battlefields and soak himself in blood—his and his mens’—and risk everything he had in life.

“Branch.”

The captain needed not to turn around to identify the source of the silk-soft voice.

“Princess Poppy.”

He could hear the _swish, swish, swish_ of her royal gown as she made her way to him, tracing delicate footsteps on the way. She was then kneeling in front of him, taking his head in her soft, smooth hands, lifting his chin to meet his eyes.

“You _have_ to come back alive.”

“Princess, I cannot make promises I can’t keep.”

“You _have_ to, Branch. I _know_ you will.”

“Fate chooses my destiny.”

“ _Branch..._ ”

____________________

_Little Princess Poppy stood at the doorway of the door three times her height, rocking back and forth on her heels. She watched as the young boy stood in front of the target, holding a bow that seemed almost too big for him._

_She wondered if he could even hold it._

_“Hi.”_

_“... You’re not allowed to talk to me.”_

_“Why not?”_

_“It’s the rules.”_

_“Who chose the rules? I can do whatever I want.”_

_“Rules were made to be followed, princess. Do not disrespect them.”_

_The princess frowned. “You talk like my dad.”_

_“His Majesty knows what he speaks of, in that case.”_

_Poppy watched as the arrow flew through the air and landed perfectly in the middle of the circle target. She blinked and stared._

_“I’m Poppy, Princess Poppy.”_

_“I am well aware.”_

_Another arrow landed on the target, this time a little off from the intended middle, and the boy visibly scowled._

_“Your highness, please go. I need to train.”_

____________________

_“What are you doing?”_

_“... Princess Poppy.”_

_She stared at the mess of twigs and the thin grass blades in his hands, fingers tangled with Alchemilla._

_“Are you making something?”_

_“I’d rather you didn’t ask, your highness.”_

_“I’m just curious.”_

_His hands shook and his fingernails drew blood as they dug into his skin. “Leave.”_

_“But I—”_

_“You know you’re not supposed to talk to me!”_

_Poppy flinched, and her hands gripped the door. “I...”_

_“... Princess, please. Before you get caught.”_

____________________

_It had been a surprise indeed when Princess Poppy opened her door to wander around the castle only to find a delicate, beautifully-woven bracelet made of polished twigs and the Alchemilla flowers she had seen earlier. Carefully, she picked it up from the carpeted floor and ran her thumb over the twisted wood, she couldn’t see a single flaw._

_She carefully slipped it on her wrist and gently nudged the small flowers with her finger to bring them up to the top, making it easier for her to see—_

_And she thought of him._

_And like she always did, she cursed those stupid rules for even existing._

____________________

_The only other time she had ever been to a funeral was her mother’s, the dear queen’s—unfortunately, the princess had been to young to recall such memories._

_This would have been the second, and she could remember standing quietly by the side of the king in front of the massive stone with names engraved neatly over the polished surface. Ironically, it had rained that day._

_And now the princess watched quietly as Branch kneeled in front of the grave of his dear father, his only living relative, his family. His hands planted firmly on the ground, fingers digging into soil in apparent agony._

_“... I’m sorry.”_

_“... Princess?”_

_“Yes?”_

_“Get the hell away from me.”_

____________________

“... I’m scared, princess. I shouldn’t be scared.”

“It’s okay to be scared, Branch. I know this is dangerous.”

“I’m not afraid of death, princess.”

“Then what are you afraid of, my dear Branch?”

“...”

She wrapped him in a warm swaddle of her chest and arms. He didn't want to leave. It felt as if when he was in her arms all his pain and fears went away—mental and physical, mostly the depressing pain. If he could only stay in her arms forever, safe from the world's harmful people.

One could only hope.

She kissed him and his brain lit on fire and the warmth spread throughout his entire body. The kiss was his salvation and his torment. He lived for them and he would die with the memory of them on his lips. He had dedicated his life to being with her from the moment she had welcomed him into her embrace, for he knew that if he lost her he would loose himself. She was the half that made him whole.

Once they had to pull away, reality rushed back like a tide.

_“Come back to me, Branch.”_

____________________

After months of waiting and gripping onto beautiful woven bracelets with the little hope she had left, the war was over.

The battle had been won, it had raged on greatly, and every single man had fought for their kingdom. Few came back alive.

It wasn’t too long after that when it was officially announced that Captain Woods’ body had been found on the battlefield.

_She just wished she could have kissed him another one last time._


	24. Staying Serious, Not Smiling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wants to stay serious, and all B can think of is how beautiful A’s eyes are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy request by shamefulscrapbook.
> 
> And also, to all the readers who read the last chapter, I’m SO SO SORRY I killed Branch. I apologize.

Poppy loved to daydream.

Without knowing at all, she’d find herself slowly drifting away from reality, thinking of how _wonderful_ her life was, how lucky she was to have such _wonderful_ friends, how every single troll supported her as queen and made her days _wonderful_ as always.

And she could never get herself _not_ to think about Branch, and only Branch. How hot he was, how brave and intelligent and—

“... need to make certain safety precautions in the village to make sure Cooper doesn’t crash—no pun intended—into another birthday party. Two trolls fractured bones, three went into major panic, so I beseech you, for the _thirteenth time_ , Poppy, that we _have_ to put limits on slingshotting— _Poppy_!”

“Branch! Uh—” She lifted her head to find Branch staring right at her, one hand tightly gripping the checklist with a hastily-scribbled diagram and the other placed firmly on his waist. His blue eyes bore into hers and she felt herself turning redder. “What were you saying?”

“Poppy.” He groaned and dropped the checklist onto Poppy’s neatly-made pink bedspread. “This is the third time you lost yourself. Can you at least try to remain serious when I’m talking to you about the safety of Troll Village? Lives are at stake here.”

“Sorry, heh.” She plastered a rather large grin onto her face. “I like thinking about many, many stuff. Like Biggie, and Satin, and Chenille, and Mr. Dinkles, and you!”

_Sugar, why did she have to say that out loud?_

“Uh... okay.” Branch shook his head. “Look, whatever it is you’re thinking of, can you focus? Now I have to spend another thirty minites repeating the same plan—again—and this whole thing is starting to give me a migraine.”

“Yeah, could we get some hot cocoa before we start? With the little marshmallows in them, you know? I’d do absolutely _anything_ for a mug of hot cocoa—“

“Poppy.” He marched over and grabbed her shoulders, turning her to make her face him, making sure her eyes met his own. “Look me in the eyes and stay serious with me for a second—“

A wide grin spread over her face and she started to giggle. “Your eyes are so beautiful.”

Branch couldn’t help but find this incredibly cute and funny—the hell, Poppy was always funny. How could he _not_ smile? He knew he at least had to be the one to stay focused in this situation, but this was _Poppy_.

And he could _not_ resist Poppy.

He forced himself not to smile and shook her a little, trying to ignore that sweet little smile of hers. “ _No_ , Poppy!”

“I’m being honest, your eyes look so, so _beautiful_ , Branch.”

Oh hell no.

The grin broke onto his face and it widened when Poppy pulled him immediately into a hug.

“You’ve got such beautiful eyes, Branch. How come I’ve never noticed them?”

“Guess you’ve never really had the opportunity to make eye contact with me?”

Staying serious? He could do that later.

With Poppy, he had all the time in the world.


	25. Kissing You Angrily

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A is angry and wants to vent by kissing B. B doesn't disagree to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Request by shamefulscrapbook. A bit of kissing, just making out. Nothing too explicit.
> 
> Pretty short, sorry!

It had been one crazy night—but one of the best in Poppy’s life.

Bergens and trolls had finally made peace. They no longer saw them as food that brought them ‘true happiness’, and the trolls weren’t as afraid of those creatures anymore. It was a whole new start.

Although... Poppy still couldn’t shake Creek from her mind.

She had always thought of Creek as a wise, passionate friend. Maybe more. But when she found her thoughts drifting back to the smug smile on his face, standing on other side of cage bars, she couldn’t help but grind her teeth. The way he had sold them out just for his own good—it made Poppy sick and it blinded her with rage.

She lay across the soft bed of her pod, Branch somehow sitting at her crafting table, cross-legged on the chair as he wrote quietly in a small journal.

“Ugh.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s Creek.” She pushed herself up on her elbows and squeezed her lips shut tight. “I can’t stop thinking about how be betrayed us.”

“Of course you can’t.”

“I just... I don’t get it.” She sighed. “I didn’t see him like that.”

“I’ve hated him for a pretty long time.”

“I’m just so... _ugh_ , I can’t help it.” Poppy shook her head. “I can’t— _oh my god_ , I hate him _so, so_ much.”

“Now you know how I feel.”

“Branch.”

“Yeah?”

“C’mere.”

“What?”

“Just come over here.”

When Branch made his way to her bed and carefully sat down, she grabbed him by the shoulders and pinned him against the mattress, catching him completely by surprise.

“Wha—Poppy?”

“I’m gonna let out all my anger in the form of kissing you.”

“I… well, I guess that’s one way to vent.” Branch paused. “… That I’m really down for.”

Without hesitation, Poppy smashed her lips onto his, savoring every single second and felt the rage slowly drip away into nothing.

Warm lips pressed against his. Branch’s eyes widened and it took approximately one point three seconds for him to realize that Poppy was kissing her and a further three pint eight seconds to realize that he was kissing back. His eyes had fluttered shut and in the darkness he could see light exploding. She smelled like cotton candy and she tasted rather sweet but he didn’t care because all he could focus on was the liquid warmth that was quickly spreading through his body. The kiss was long and her mouth was hot and his heart was beating wildly.

He hardly had a moment to react before she pressed her tongue to the seam of his lips and, at his grant of access, delved inside his mouth. It was a very sloppy kiss with the strong scent of sugar being exchanged in the intermingling of their billowing breaths. His arms reached up and tangled around her neck. In an instant she had pulled away and arched up into his broad chest, moaning in the contact of body heat against her own, before she drew back into his lips. Branch could nearly feel the slight burn of the various scents and tastes as it rolled off his tongue and seeped down his throat with every push of her tongue against his.

The swirls of emotion he saw there made his heart thump with excitement. Lust and desire. She yanked him to her and covered his mouth with hers in another hungry kiss. As their lips crushed together once more, he felt like he was walking on air. It was magic, the way her lips connected with his. Her mouth was so warm, the caress of her lips softer than he could have imagined and he opened his mouth with a low moan.

And it felt wonderful.

The night was young, and so were they—and they didn't need to ponder over what they were supposed to do next.


	26. Let Me Teach You How To Moonwalk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue to use:
> 
> 1\. I Love you, but please stop whatever it is that you're doing.
> 
> A is attempting a dance move and B wants A to stop because first, the way they do it is totally wrong; and second, because A's too cute when they try to do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last request by shamefulscrapbook. **Ricky_picky** , your request is next.
> 
> **Thank you guys so, so much for the 101 kudos! I owe the motivation to write these many oneshots to y'all. Enjoy!**

Branch knew, for a fact, that Poppy was a dance prodigy.

She could move her feet, twist her hips, shake her hair and bring out the best dance moves any troll could possibly imagine. Poppy was a pro, and nobody could deny that. And Branch was proud to be her boyfriend, he really was.

It had only been a coincidence when Branch found out that Poppy _could not_ moonwalk.

He had been sitting at the Troll Tree, strumming his ukulele with different random chords, maybe trying to make up a song. Or maybe just strumming his favorite tunes. It was either one of them, but Branch didn't really care.

Poppy was in front of him, supposedly just trying out a few dance moves. He was fine with that, there was no problem at all.

Until she started acting weird—shuffling her feet against the ground with jerky movements, pushing herself against the grass with her toes. To Branch, it looked as if she was looking at herself on a mirror with a new pair of heels, trying to see how many scoots it would take to break them. Or either trying to push a car from the back using a shopping cart? Again, either one of them, but Branch didn't care. And it made her seem so incredibly cute that he couldn't help but stare at her rather hideous dance—no matter how hard he tried, he kept on going back to the thought that how she was at least trying to dance was so adorable.

"Poppy, I love you, but please stop whatever it is that you're doing."

She stopped and turned to stare at him. "What?"

He pointed at her feet in response. "You know... _that_."

"My moonwalk?"

His jaw literally dropped open. "That's a _moonwalk_?"

"Duh, what else would it be?"

"That's not how you moonwalk, Poppy."

Sure, Poppy was good at dancing. No, she was _great_ at dancing.

That didn't mean Branch was just as good.

"Sure it is!" Poppy did the same move again, and Branch made a face. "See, Suki taught me. One foot back and bring your heel up, push against the ground with the other at the same time." She did as said, making the whole thing a bit more awkward than it already was before. "And then you put the other foot back, bring your heel up, push against the ground at the same time..." She dragged her foot against the grass slowly. "And then you put your other foot back and—"

"—push against the ground at the same time, yeah, got it." Branch said, managing a forced smile as he set his prized ukulele down against the Troll Tree and slowly got to his feet. "Look, the directions Suki taught you _are_ correct—but what you're doing? It's... uh..."

"Good?"

Branch cocked his head. "Well, uh..."

"Great?"

He brought his hand up with a so-so gesture. "Eh..."

"Fantastic? Astounding? Stunning?"

"I... was gonna say... wrong." Branch said slowly, dragging the words reluctantly. He gave her a quick smile that vanished as soon as it had appeared, clicked his tongue to break the silence.

"Oh."

"You know what? I'll teach you." Branch made his way to Poppy, and the grass tickled his toes. He knew the moonwalk was a rather outdated dance move, something from the 80's? 90's? He wasn't too sure. But Poppy seemed too eager to master it, _way too eager_ , and the way her eyes lit up once Branch had volunteered to teach her made his heart flutter. He couldn't possibly back away from such a look.

Especially if it was Poppy.

Branch himself had managed to master the moonwalk when he was just a child. Of course, that had been when his grandmother still used to be alive, before he had stopped singing and dancing completely. After finding his colors, he had been rather ecstatic to know that his body hadn't rusted as much as he thought it would have. Turned out he had missed doing it.

"Okay, look." He cleared his throat and stood in front of her. "Place one foot directly in front of the other and stand on the toes of your back leg. Then, lift your right leg and place the toes of your right foot facing the floor, approximately a foot behind your left leg. Keep your arms at your sides—you can worry about them later. Keep your left foot flat on the ground." He did as so, moving his feet slowly so that Poppy could study his movements. "Slide your left heel back and 'into' the floor. Do this as you lean back on your right leg so that your left foot finishes behind the right leg. And while you do this— _Poppy, concentrate_ —the heel of your right foot should still remain in the air, with the toes pointed down on the floor. Put all of the weight into your lifted leg, so the leg that is flat on the floor feels weightless.

"Snap the heel of your left foot up off the floor as you simultaneously snap the heel of your right foot down. Now you are in the same position you started with, see, only your feet have changed positions. Your right foot should now be in front of your left leg instead of the other way around. To do this right, only one of your feet should be in the air at any given time. Always one; never two, and never zero."

Poppy had decided to sit cross-legged on the ground in front of him, nodding and staring at his feet. "Is that it?"

Branch shrugged and plopped down onto the green grass across from her. "Pretty much."

"I think I've got the hang of it."

His eyes widened. "Wait, really?"

"Yup!" She hopped up onto her feet with a wide grin. "See?"

Branch couldn't help but shake his head when Poppy began to do that shopping cart move again. Of course she hadn't gotten 'the hang' of it.

"We're gonna need a bit more practice, Poppy."

With a pout, she sat back down on the grass again, picking at blades of grass. "Well, can you play your uke for a while? Until our next moonwalk sesh."

"Moonwalk sesh? Since when did _that_ exist?"

"Since now, of course."

And before both of them knew it, Branch was back to strumming his ukulele, sunlight coming as woven strands, free and united, flowing into the day it revealed and solidified, making the world of their nightly dreams something so beautiful. This was their world, their normal everyday world, the present with each rise of the sun that they could marvel at or ignore; the choice was theirs, it always was. Even when their days consisted of failed moonwalks and mental facepalms.

" _Poppy!_ "

"I'm doing it, aren't I?"


	27. Your Blood and My Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A finds B injured and at the verge of death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup. Angsty title, angsty prompt. This one was requested by Kate.
> 
> I know I'm supposed to writing requests in order, but I just got so excited to write this one. Please accept this oneshot as an apology.
> 
> And we need more sick!branch and injured!branch stories? I dunno, I just like seeing my favorite characters in bad situations, I'm a psychopath. xD

Poppy knew Branch would never allow himself to get hurt or lost or injured—he was fast, he was agile, he was careful. He wouldn’t let it happen.

At least, that’s what Poppy believed.

She had begun to think that even something bad happening to Branch was actually inevitable when he hadn’t returned to the village for two days after bidding her goodbye to gather more coal for his storage supply.

Poppy had spent most of those two days pacing back and forth in front of his bunker, half-expecting Branch to pop out from the hatch any second with an annoyed expression. It didn’t happen, of course, and it left her biting her nails with concern.

It had been the morning of the third day of Branch’s absence when Poppy announced to her closest friend, the Snack Pack, that she was off to find Branch just in case something had happened to him. To her relief, Guy Diamond, Biggie, and Smidge volunteered to go with her.

The journey to the coal mines had been rather hazardous, but they had made it, they had managed not to meet too much danger. The mines have had obvious signs of Branch having done his work, and when he wasn’t there. Poppy grew even more nervous.

“Alright, guys. We need to split up.”

“Poppy, this is hopeless. We’ve looked everywhere.” Smidge pointed out. “It’s getting dark, critters’ll be out soon. We need to get back to the village.”

“No, Branch could be anywhere, Smidge. We can’t give up on him.”

“Poppy’s right. He’s our friend.” Guy nodded, and Poppy couldn’t help but let a smile grow onto her face. “Split up, meet back here in five.”

And then Poppy was making her way blindly through the woods and trees, walking over roots with dry leaves crunching beneath her feet.

Smidge hadn’t been wrong—the night sky had darkened considerably, stars like specks of white paint on a blackly-painted canvas.

“Branch?”

Silence, no answer.

“Branch!”

She wandered through the forest, almost tripping over a twig and rubbed her scraped knee. Poppy had to find Branch, she just had to—

A faint sound of rustling leaves made her stop in her tracks.

“Branch? Is that you?”

Poppy swore she could have heard another noise—almost like something brushing against dry grass. Without hesitation, she began towards the source of the sound.

The other part of her mind was screaming at her. It’s just a critter, it’s not the troll you’re looking for. Give up, Poppy, it’s hopeless. She swatted the thoughts away like flies. _Never doubt anything_.

She finally reached a clearing where she found someone, or something, curled up on a small bed of dead grass, almost like a bedspread. Her vision cleared itself to find—

“Branch!” The name escaped her like a strangled cry as she rushed over to the troll. She couldn’t see too well through the dark, but she put her hands on her sides in an attempt to turn him over. “Branch, can you hear me? Are you okay?”

The only response he returned was a weak, pained whimper, and she could barely see his face. Poppy searched over him for any injuries—her heart almost stopped after what she saw next.

There was the white jagged end of a broken bone, presumably a rib, cutting through the skin and blood ran freely in thick scarlet rivers over his chest. The wound was sliced in the flesh of his stomach, heavily oozing out blood and with a bluish-purple bruise forming around it. Poppy had to urge herself not to throw up.

“Oh no, _oh no no no no no no_ —” In vain attempt to stop the blood from flowing, she pressed her hands against his wound, and she felt his body jerk. The crimson, warm liquid seeped through her fingers and pooled down in the area her knee had dug into the earth. She let out a loud sob.

“Branch, please, hang on—” She hastily reached into her hair and pulled out her handkerchief the second she felt her fingers have a good grasp of it. Poppy put it against the wound and released a shaky breath when the blood drenched the piece of cloth in a matter of seconds. It flowed incessantly and dripped down her now-red-sundress.

She couldn’t stop it, she couldn’t, she just _couldn’t stop it—_

“ _Smidge! Biggie! Guy! Help me!_ ” The words tore through her throat and choked her, her fingers against pressing against his wound in futile effort.

“ _... P-poppy?_ ”

His blood-smeared lips parted a bit, and hearing his voice through all the panic she was feeling made her want to cry.

“Yes, Branch, it’s Poppy. I’m here, I’m here.” She carefully removed her hands from his cut and her fingers brushed against his vest. She carefully cradled his head in her lap, stroking his hair, still as soft as ever through her fingers.

His eyelids fluttered weakly, closed for a short second before opening again, and Poppy could _see_ the life seeping out of him. 

“No, Branch, please. Stay awake, don’t leave. Please.”

“Poppy... I’m...”

“Branch?”

Her hands stroked his cheeks and she pressed her forehead against his, sobbing freely. She sobbed and tears flooded like the waters rushing down from a waterfall and the only time she'd stop was to fill her lungs with fresh air. His finger curled around her wrist weakly and gave it a weak squeeze, as if trying to give her just even just a little bit of comfort.

" _Please don't leave me, please don't leave me, please don't leave me..._ "

The rest was a blur. Before she knew it, Poppy was being pulled away from him by Guy, Smidge helping Biggie pick him up. Guy was shaking her gently by the shoulders, mouthing words she couldn't possible make out. She felt... so empty.

" _Branch..._ "

____________________

She couldn't remember the rest of the trip. They ran the whole way, nonstop, Biggie cradling Branch in his huge arms, Guy and Smidge beside her and trying to keep her from falling or tugging Branch down with him and screaming. "Don't die on me, Branch, don't die on me, we're almost there, _Branch!_ "

When the finally arrived at the village and Branch was taken in with the medics, Poppy's legs gave in and she collapsed on the spot, her fingers digging into the earth and scraping dirt into her palms. Her tears mixed with his blood and grime. As much as she tried to hold it in, the pain came out like an uproar from her throat in the form of a silent scream. Tears started falling down one after another, without a sign of stopping. She tried to scream, but her voice was melted by the sharp cries in her head. The muffled sobs wracked against her chest. The world turned into a blur, and so did all the sounds. The taste. The smell. Everything was gone. The last painful emotion slammed against her before she lost the feeling of feeling. She didn't care, she didn't care about anything no more. She only wanted Branch, she wanted _her_ Branch.

And that was how she found herself, two days later, sitting on a small chair at his bedside, gently stroking the teal skin of his hand. She wanted to cry, but couldn't get herself to. She couldn't smile, she couldn't frown, she felt completely empty and devoid of any emotion. The beeps of the heart monitor thumped almost in sync with her own heart. Poppy didn't _dare_ look at his face.

Critter experts and doctors of the village concluded that it had been a predatory bird of some sort that had attacked him. Ripped his skin with their talons, exposed his ribcage, almost killed him and let him bleed to death after inhaling the scent of blood. She could finally see why he hated birds so much.

She focused on his hand, ignored the white walls and bedsheets, ignored the smell of bandages and disinfectant. Lyrics of songs swam through her cerebral cortex like a wakeful dream, the notes somehow letting her relax, and she enabled the song to call to her entire being.

_Hold on, I still want you_

Her voice was coarse and broken like fragmented rock in hessian sack. She still sang.

_Come back, I still need you_

She held his hand a bit tighter, and she waited for a moment, in hope that he'd finally come to, that he'd be okay. Her momentary hopes died after seconds.

_Let me take your hand, I'll make it right_  
_I swear to love you all my life_  
_Hold on, I still need you_

For a quick second, Poppy had to assure herself that the twitch he had felt from his hand in hers was real. It was real, it was real, it _had_ to be real.

And there he was, breathing and alive, looking into her eyes with his own. And then he was smiling at her, a faint grin breaking onto his face. He was weak, but he was there.

"Poppy."

"Branch."

Soon his lips were on hers, and then she knew, that even though the world couldn't be perfect, there were some things that were worth to continue fighting for, because they could be that one reason you're still alive.

_Tendrils of smoke ascended into the heavens from the last blazing candle she called hope._


	28. The Hanging Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This isn’t a request, just a plot I’ve had in mind.
> 
> **THOSE WHO ARE EASILY TRIGGERED BY THEMES CONCERNING SUICIDE, SELF HARM, AND DEATH SHOULD AVOID READING THIS CHAPTER.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suicide is tragic, traumatic and painful. If you are having suicidal thoughts, please seek out the help of a loved one, a mental health professional, a teacher or any trusted adult. The teenage years can be confusing, sometimes you just need a little help. Everybody is worthwhile and yes, your life is important. Get help now, right now, even if you have to wake someone up.

_Are you, are you  
Coming to the tree  
They strung up a man  
They say who murdered three  
Strange things did happen here  
No stranger would it be  
If we met at midnight  
In the hanging tree_

_Are you, are you  
Coming to the tree  
Where dead man called out  
For his love to flee  
Strange things did happen here  
No stranger would it be  
If we met at midnight  
In the hanging tree_

Poppy Kingsley hated that song. Hated it so, so much.

But she’d always find Branch Woods singing it, and she despised that he would do so.

To Poppy, Branch Woods was a special individual. He was… different, to say the least. And he was distant, like a faraway land hidden and untouched. She couldn’t count the times she had tried to get him to talk. But despite her continuous attempts, Branch Woods never talked. Ever.

The townspeople called him silence itself.

Some others said he was mute, some said he was just rather shy. Poppy thought they were wrong—no, she knew they were wrong.

Because the only time she could hear his beautiful, angelic voice, that she had somehow managed to fall in love with, was when he sang that awful, awful song.

_Are you, are you  
Coming to the tree  
Where I told you to run  
So we'd both be free  
Strange things did happen here  
No stranger would it be  
If we met at midnight  
In the hanging tree_

_Are you, are you  
Coming to the tree  
Wear a necklace of hope  
Side by side with me  
Strange things did happen here  
No stranger would it be  
If we met at midnight  
In the hanging tree_

Poppy found him in the forest, underneath the town’s well-known Hanging Tree, quietly twisting a rope in his rough, calloused hands. Its branches fanned out wide, separating from each other like the petals of a blossom. It stood ghost-like, the silent observer of the woods, mountains, the river and the clouds. She faintly remembered her father telling her that once a year, who that was destined to be killed would hang themselves and take their own lives. The thought sickened her.

“What are you doing here?” She asked him.

“What do you _think_ I’m doing here?” He snapped. “It’s called the Hanging Tree for a reason, moron.”

It had been the first time that Poppy had heard him actually speak. The words rose from his throat and traveled over his tongue, it was smooth and soft and gentle, and she wanted to hear more of it.

“I don’t understand.”

“You wouldn’t, anyway.”

She had always loved the wind, for it came to her so boldly, touched her skin. In coldness it roused her to wakefulness, an alertness that let her savour the moments in dryness and rain just the same. In soft breezes it was finer than silk, smoother than water. In the gales it sang through the trees, sending loose leaves on a dancing funfair ride, hypnotic, beautiful. In the summertime, wind was cooling, allowing the warmth to gently enter muscle and bone while her skin felt so at ease with the world.

Now, she hated it. She hated it.

“Let’s go back.”

“Why would I even listen to the likes of you?”

Poppy looked back down at his hands, down at the knotted rope whose end dragged across the ground—it was a noose. Delicately woven with skilled fingers, tied with a strong hold.

But a noose nonetheless.

“Branch, we can—”

“Don’t say that name.”

“But—”

“ _Don’t say that name!_ ”

Silence gnawed at her insides. It hung in the air like the suspended moment before a falling glass shatters on the ground. It silence was like a gaping void, needing to be filled with sounds, words, anything. It was poisonous in it's nothingness, cruelly underscoring how vapid their conversation had become. The silence was eerily unnatural, like a dawn devoid of birdsong. Silence clung to them like a poisonous cloud that at any moment could choke the life from them. Silence seeped into their every pore, like a poison slowly paralyzing them from either speech or movement.

“... I don’t want to hear it.”

She saw his fingers tighten around the noose and she felt her heart beating quickly, her blood pumping in her ears.

“Please, let me talk to you.”

“Leave, Poppy Kingsley. You don’t want to see this, trust me.” His voice was hollow, as if he were talking directly through a dead spirit lingering over his head like death itself. “Just tell them to take care of the body for me.” He took a step onto the rickety wooden stool underneath the thick bough.

She took a bold step towards him, but her legs trembled and her knees shook uncontrollably. “Branch, let’s leave here. Together.”

“Leave me alone.” The end of the rope was wrapped tightly around the bough, noose around his throat in just a matter of seconds. “I want to die, Poppy.”

Before she could cry out, he had kicked the stool underneath his feet.

“ _No!_ ”

Her body plunged forward and her arms wrapped around his knees, lifting him up and keeping the rope from choking him to death—her feet staggered across the ground, crunching on dry leaves and dead grass.

He kicked at her stomach, almost desperately. “Poppy, let go.”

“No!”

“Let go!”

She pulled, gritting her teeth in effort as she held him up with all the strength she could muster. “You can’t do this!”

“ _Let go, Poppy!_ ”

“ _You can’t—_ ” The words escaped her as something that almost resembled a scream, and it frightened her. With sudden adrenaline that rushed through her veins, Poppy squeezed him tighter—and the rope, as if they had both been too much, suddenly snapped—it sent them both tumbling onto the ground.

Branch grabbed onto the rope around his neck and pulled at the end of it, and it tightened around his throat. Poppy hastily slipped her fingers underneath the material and forced it towards her.

“Let go!”

“No, I’m not letting you do this!”

“Fuck you, Poppy Kingsley!”

“I won’t let you!”

“ _Why?_ ” The cry tore through his throat as his hands released the rope, sounding almost as if someone was strangling and choking him that she just had to let go. “Why won’t you just let me _die?_ ”

Poppy opened her mouth to answer, but she couldn’t get herself to utter a single word. She felt bound, she felt trapped and tied up.

“ _Why can’t you let me take my own goddamn life?_ ”

A single tear slid down from his warm, blue eyes, followed by another one, and another one, until soon, a steady stream of salty tears flowed it's way down his cheek, releasing the sadness and sorrow that has been held inside of him for all this time but he did not make a sound.

“Branch…”

His head dropped along with his gaze, haunches sitting on his heels. His fingers curled around the dry grass and earth dug into his fingernails, gathered inside his palm. Fresh blood seeped out from the cuts in his skin and they almost melted into the dirt. His thin frame trembled uncontrollably.

So without a word, she dropped down onto the ground in front of him and pulled him into a warm embrace. Poppy’s fingers traced over the closed cuts over over his bare arms and skin. she dropped down onto the ground beside him and pulled him into a warm embrace. His tense muscles slackened, and she inhaled his scent of burnt wood and fresh daffodils. Her fingers ran over the closed cuts and wounds.

His tense muscles slackened in her hold, and his quivering breaths slowly turned into painful whimpers. He sobbed into her chest unceasingly, hands clutching at her sundress. She held him in silence, rocking him slowly as his tears soaked her chest. A tiny lapse let him pull away, blinking lashes heavy with tears, before he collapsed again, his howls of misery worsening. The pain must have come in waves, minutes of sobbing broken apart by short pauses for recovering breaths, before hurling him back into the outstretched arms of his agony.

“... They hate me, Poppy. They _hate_ me, they don’t want me here.”

“That’s not true.”

He pulled away and the tear streaks on his face traveled down his cheek and to his chin. “I want to die…” He whispered.

“No, stop.” She pursed her lips and violently shook her head. “Stop saying you want to die, you’re still here, aren’t you? If you wanted to, you wouldn’t be talking here with me, and honestly, I like it better if you’re here because I know someone is also here for me.”

“Everyone hates me. _You_ should hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.” Poppy said. “I want to get to know you better, Branch. Give me that chance.”

“... Poppy.”

“Make me a promise.” She said firmly, and she grasped onto his limp, clammy hand. “Promise me you won’t sing that song anymore.”

“The song?”

“Talk to me instead, okay? Don’t sing that song, ever—instead, you come talk to me. Don’t sing the pain away.”

“...”

“I’m sorry I never listened to you.”

“...”

“Do you promise me, Branch?”

“... I’ll try.”

And even if it wasn’t a clear response, Poppy knew that she should be able to accept it, because she knew he wasn’t at his fullest at the moment. She pulled him into another hug, and he did not protest.

It was one of those moments when both characters of the story realized that there was more to living than just yourself. You had others as well, and that’s what made people sane.

They made each other sane, and that was all that mattered.

_Are you, are you  
Coming to the tree  
Where dead man called out  
For his love to flee  
Strange things did happen here  
No stranger would it be  
If we met at midnight  
In the hanging tree_


	29. Plan Out, Prom In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A calls B and asks them what color they should match to prom. It turns out A forgot to ask B out.
> 
> Human/AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was requested by Ricky_picky. Back to fluff and cuteness!

It wasn't every day your guy best friend called you at 3 AM in the morning. Especially when the day after-after-after was the school prom. 

And Poppy Kingsley _still_ didn't have a date.

It wasn't that she didn't have any friends or anything—mostly everyone at her school she considered her friend. Close or distant, she didn't care. It wasn't that she wasn't pretty either—Poppy had turned down every single guy who had asked her to prom, as politely as she could have put it, that she was actually saving it up for a particular someone.

She had been scrolling through her Instagram feed, lying on her stomach on top of her comforter as she pressed likes on every single post she came face-to-face with—she liked knowing that a simple action from her could give others at least a little dash of happiness on the other side of the planet. She was ecstatic to see the picture of Branch's face pop up on the screen of her phone—the words 'BFF ❤' spelled out underneath his sweet, sweet smile.

She tapped on the call button.

"Hello, Poppy speaking!"

_"What color should I wear to the prom?"_

"What color?" Poppy raised an eyebrow. "Uh... I don't know."

_"Well, we need to match to prom, don't we? What color is your dress?"_

"... Since when are we going to the prom together?"

The line suddenly went silent, and Poppy was thinking that Branch had hung up when his voice was suddenly heard through the tiny hole speakers of her phone.

_"Shit, I forgot to ask you."_

Poppy couldn't help but accidentally snort. 

_"I heard that, Poppy."_

"Sorry, this... this whole thing—" She flopped down onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. "—it's just hilarious."

_"It was an honest mistake."_

"Well then, uh..." Poppy cleared her throat and hugged her pillow to her chest, snuggling into her pink fuzzy cat pajamas. "... ask me."

_"Ask you what?"_

"Ask me to the prom."

_"Now?"_

"Yes, Branch. Now."

_"I thought you told Creek Willows that you were saving it up for someone else?"_

Poppy didn't really know who had actually been the one to tell him that, and it definitely couldn't have been Creek Willows because those two would _never_ talk to each other, even if the world was ending. Maybe it had been Cooper Hedges. Or maybe Smidge Miller?

"I did, yeah."

_"Well?"_

"Well... what?"

_"Aren't you... ya know. Keep on going to save yourself for the guy?"_

"Who said it was a guy?"

_"Poppy—"_

"Alright, sorry, sorry. Yeah, it's a boy." Poppy barked out a nervous laugh. "I don't really think I need to wait anymore, though."

_"Wait, I thought you told me to ask you out."_

"Yup."

A silence ensued for a short second. _"I'm so confused."_

"Branch?"

_"Poppy?"_

Poppy sucked in a deep breath. "Who do you _think_ that guy is?"

_"... Oh."_

She snickered at his reaction. "And I thought _you_ were the smart one."

_"Shut up, Poppy."_

"So... you wanna start over? Pretend everything before this never happened?"

_"Sounds like the least-awkward idea."_

"Right." Poppy cleared her throat and sat up, let her back lay flat against the backrest. "So, Branch. My best friend. My dear partner in crime. Grumpy buddy. Why did you call at this time of day?"

_"Poppy, this is so weird."_

"Shush, don't ruin the moment."

She smiled to herself when she heard him groan.

_"Poppy, uh, will you..."_ His voice reduced to almost what sounded like a squeak. _"... go to prom with me?"_

"Of course, Branch! Of course!"

_"Wait, as friends? Or..."_

"Or what?"

_"In like a 'more than just friends' way?"_

"The latter."

_"Cool."_

"Cool."

Poppy could briefly hear the scrapes of a chair against a wooden floor from the other end of the line. _"Alright, then, we can go back to that earlier subject. What color is your dress?"_

"I dunno, I haven't really decided yet."

_"I was just planning to go in my dad's old navy tux."_

"Navy? Oh my hugs, that's gonna look _so_ good on you, Branch!"

_"It looked better than green, anyway. Ew."_

"I'll look for something blueish—I think I might be able to find something in my mom's closet. I think she had this beautiful sky blue dress she wore for homecoming in her school days—"

_"You know what, Poppy?"_

"What?"

_"Sky blue gown along with your pink hair? You'd look stunning."_

At those words, the champagne pink color infused cheeks were dimpled with a blossoming smile and her eyes shone in a way that only deep happiness could bring.

"Oh, Branch. That's so sweet of you."

_"I don't carry the ideal definition of 'sweet'—"_

"Believe in whatever makes you sleep better, Branch."

_"... Whatevs, Poppy. See you tomorrow for lunch at Chipotle? Like we promised?"_

"Yeah, can't wait! Goodnight!"

_"Night, Poppy."_

"Wait, Branch!"

_"What?"_

"Don't stay up so late!"

_"... Poppy?"_

"Yeah?"

_"Go to bed."_


	30. Blood On The Asphalt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A is injured in an accident and B is worried as A is rushed to the hospital.
> 
> Human/AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I know I said I was gonna write and upload a chapter yesterday, and I'm sorry I didn't keep my word. My mom just had to close the tab of what I've written and it was just _gone_ in a matter of seconds. I got pretty mad about something stupid.
> 
> And now I'm back, sitting in bed with my laptop at two in the morning, wide awake after watching the both Trolls movies on my phone.
> 
> Enjoy the chapter! This was requested by ImafanofFANFICTIONS.

This wasn't supposed to be happening.

It had been supposed to be an ordinary day. It should have been an ordinary Saturday night, an ordinary outing at their favorite diner, an ordinary walk to Poppy's house and an ordinary night routine for Branch.

It had only happened in a short matter of seconds—it only felt like a moment ago when Poppy was suddenly calling for him, and before he knew it, was shoving him out of the way. He had barely managed to turn his head only to witness a car collide with his best friend—he remembered screaming her name as her body flew back and away from the car, away from _him_.

It was one of those moments when Branch wished the same thing over and over again.

_It should have been me..._

And now he could only stand still, staring almost blankly at Poppy who was strapped onto a stretcher, oxygen being pumped into her with an ambu bag. He couldn't move, he couldn't breath, he felt so dumb and useless— _this wasn't supposed to happen._

Scenes from his terrible, terrible childhood flashed through his mind, piercing through him like a sharp, deadly dagger. The blood staining the sidewalk, himself as a little child, cradling his beloved grandmother's head and weeping, tears trickling down his cheeks like water from a burst pipe. The blood staining his hands—red. Red. _Red._

An invisible hand clasped over his mouth; an equally ghostly hypodermic of adrenaline pierced his heart, unloading in an instant. He felt his ribs heaving as if bound by ropes, straining to inflate his lungs. His head was a carousel of fears spinning out of control, each one pushing his mind into blackness. He wanted to run; He needed to freeze. Sounds that were near felt far away, like he was no longer in the body that stood almost paralyzed on the bloody asphalt.

He could only gag at the thought of his grandma's blood splattered across the colored stones and concrete. His body was shaking uncontrollably. He felt a paramedic's hands gently rest on his shoulders but Branch shrugged them off.

His hearing was the first to return, then his eye sight followed suit. He was still shaking as he pushed back onto his knees. A paramedic was quietly squatting next to him, his breath forming white clouds in the freezing air.

Branch didn't want him here.

He wanted Poppy instead.

The ride to the hospital was more terrifying than the accident itself; with every bump that the ambulance made, his anxiety peaked higher. Seeing Poppy—sweet, vibrant, beautiful, optimistic Poppy—in such a vulnerable state, he knew it was just the beginning. The paramedics said that if he hadn't called when he did, she could've died. They said the impact had been harder than they had expected. He know they were only trying to help, trying to make him feel better, but their words just bounced right off him. He didn't care how he had called them over, all he cared about was if she was gonna be okay.

He wasn't too sure himself.

Once they arrived and Branch happened to see doctors loading her limp, lifeless body onto another stretcher and wheel her away, he couldn't help but desperately call out her name as he chased by her, next to the bedside. The way in was down a long hallway so narrow that if a wheelchair or trolley were to come to other way he'd have to dip into a side room to let it go by. The walls were once painted, he could tell that from the cream flakes that remained, though mostly they showed the grey undercoat or perhaps the concrete beneath that. The floor was uneven from so much traffic with both feet and wheels and it was darker than a mausoleum. The air was stagnant like they just went into some pit. He didn't like this one bit.

"Poppy," He leaned into her as he ran beside her, taking her hand in his. Her bruised face was awful to look at and he barely kept himself from choking on his own sobs. "... you're gonna be okay, alright? You'll be okay—I promise. I love you, Poppy, I love you so much—"

And before he knew it, there were hands grabbing him from behind and holding him back, dear Poppy disappearing behind doors that led to ER—and Branch could only struggle against the holds that held him still, crying out her name like he would cease to exist if she were gone. She couldn't die, she couldn't. She _wouldn't_ die on him.

While he waited for her to return, Branch sat in the waiting room, watching people come and go. Accident and emergency, wide entrance with automatic sliding glass doors, ambulances lined up outside, paramedics wheeled in patients, one was a child in a neck brace, another was screaming in the corridors, doctors came running. Three hours went by, ambulances kept arriving, more emergency cases, one woman was short of breath and gasping, another hour went by, someone said they've been waiting five hours, more ambulances came in, someone threw up, a panic stricken woman came in carrying a toddler, she pushed in the queue to see the first nurse, child slumped in her arms.

It once again made Branch wonder the reason for whatever God up there made their lives all so terribly miserable.

It was five in the morning when Branch was finally allowed into Poppy's ward. The hospital room was a concrete pen with a window the size of a biscuit tin lid. It had a rather stagnant smell, like it was cleaned with plain water instead of disinfectant. The bed sat low to the ground, the frame baring the signs of rust and the mattress worryingly thin. Branch bit his lip. Before he even made it to the bed to Poppy, a song began to play softly in his head— _welcome to the Hotel California..._

He sat there for hours, listening to the beeps of the heart monitor. Her heartbeat was his metronome, keeping the rhythm of his soul at a steady pace. It beat continuously, and he stared blankly at the screen. He couldn't dare to look at her face, he couldn't. The guilt sat not on his chest but inside his brain. What he should have done, he couldn't go back and do. Confession was out of the question. Only in his silent prayers could he speak his heart to God and beg for His mercy. He didn't feel like he deserved the love of Jesus Christ but he clung to it and hung the shreds of his sanity on it.

He missed her voice, he missed her smile, he already missed her everything.

_"... Branch."_

"Poppy." His eyes found Poppy, awake and alive and as beautiful as ever. "Poppy, you're okay, Poppy..."

Her lips curled up into a warm smile. She carefully ran a thumb over the smooth skin on the back of his hand. "I'm right here, Branch."

"Poppy... I thought... I thought you were gone." He swallowed his cries and sobs that almost tore through his throat. "And I thought I killed you the same way I killed my grandmother and... and... it should have been _me_ , Poppy. _Me._ "

"No, Branch, don't say that. How many times do I have to tell you that your grandma's death is not your fault? She saved you and sacrificed herself, because she _loved you_ , Branch. She loved you so much. Just like I do."

"... Poppy?"

And before he could even acknowledge it, she had leaned forward and planted a so-very-gentle kiss on his cheek, and he couldn't have felt more content.

"... I love you, Poppy."

"I love you more than the world, Branch."


	31. What I Think About Children

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A asks B to help them babysit children while their parents are at work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know I haven't written anything in a while, and I'm so sorry! Forgive me. I'll try to write more frequently.
> 
> This one was requested by ImafanofFANFICTIONS.

**Poppy 💕👑 :**  
**branch, help me**

**Poppy 💕👑 :**  
**i'm dying**

When Poppy Kingsley, a.k.a. his crush since 5th grade, sent over those two text messages at ten at night, Branch Woods knew he should have thought before starting to worry about her out of his mind. Instead, he chose to fret over everything. Paranoid hermit indeed.

**Branch Woods :**  
**Wdym? Where are you?**

**Poppy 💕👑 :**  
**at gia's. but i need help**

**Branch Woods :**  
**Poppy, are you okay??? What's happening???**

**Poppy 💕👑 :**  
**plz come quick, i'm dying, i can't take it anymore**

And when he had hastily borrowed his neighbor's car to rush over to Gia's, half-expecting Poppy to be bleeding to her death on the floor, clutching her phone—but when Branch threw the door open and snapped his head around frantically for his friend and instead of seeing Poppy Kingsley at the verge of death, spotting her sitting on the couch with a huge smile on her face, he couldn't help but want to slap himself.

"Branch! You're finally here!" She barked out a laugh of joy and got to her feet before Branch could dart back outside again. "I was wondering when you've come, slowpoke."

"You're... you're fine. You're not dying."

"Of course I'm not dying, silly."

_"What were all those text messages for?"_

"Oh, I just did that to get your attention." She gave him a toothy smile, and he barely kept his jaw from just dropping open in disbelief. "Well, now that you're here..."

"Why would you even—"

A loud scream of a child and a laughter erupted from upstairs enlightened him with everything. Poppy, kids, and an empty house? _No, she couldn't have._

"No, Poppy. I'm going." He tried turning around to leave, but flinched and skid to a stop when he felt Poppy grab onto his jacket. 

"Pretty please, Branch? It's just for a couple of hours. I'll split the pay, I promise."

It wasn't that Branch _hated_ kids, really. They were just incredibly loud, messy, disobedient, _bunch of little germ sacks who—_

Okay. Maybe he did hate kids. Just a little.

"Poppy."

"Yes, Branch?"

_"No."_

"Braaaaaaaanch." Poppy groaned and shook him back and forth by his shoulders. "I just got back from work, and I'm tired, and I just need someone to help me out with babysitting. Pretty please?"

"No."

"Pretty, pretty please?"

"No."

"Pretty please with rainbow sprinkles, extra whipped cream, and a sugar-coated cherry on top?"

He hated that he was so vulnerable to annoying, cute, pretty girls. Girls like Poppy Kingsley.

"Fine."

And that was how Branch Woods found himself sitting cross-legged in the smallest armchair he had ever seen, cradling a nine-month-old baby in his arms and trying to shush him to sleep. All the while Poppy lay with he stomach-against the couch, flicking channels on the wide-screen TV.

"You're not doing any work at all."

"Hm..." Poppy pretended to think, placing a delicate finger on her chin. "Let's see; I fed the baby, I helped little Percy do his crossword puzzle for kindergarten, I cleaned the kitchen, and I also vacuumed the living room." She gave him a smirk. "Face it, Branch. I did _hella_ lot of chores."

"Poppy. I made dinner for three people, washed the dishes, cleaned all of the crafting materials you left on the floor with Percy, gave him his bath, spend over an _half an hour_ trying to get him to go bed, and now, I've been sitting here for the last sixty minutes trying to get the baby to sleep." He glanced back down at the child in his arms. "Please stop crying, please."

"Relax." She yawned and clicked another button on the remote. "It's just rocking a baby to sleep."

" _You_ try rocking a baby to sleep. It's not as easy as it seems." He muttered and quickly rubbed his eyes, glancing towards the clock on the wall—one thirty in the morning. Branch curled back into the armchair when the baby let out another cry.

"Oh Branch, what are you gonna do when you have your own kids in the future?" She snickered. "I bet a million dollars that you wouldn't complain as much as you're doing now."

He didn't really say anything, only caught sight of the image that flashed through his eyes, him and Poppy sitting inside a small, comfy house, smiling with children standing beside them, and— _dammit, Branch. Get your fucking head outta the clouds._

____________________

_"Ow, ow, ow—" Branch hissed when Percy painfully tugged on his hair, giggling like crazy. "Poppy, help me out here—"_

_"This is too adorable, Branch." Poppy laughed as she snapped another picture of him with her pink iPhone 11. "I'm gonna send this to Suki, she's gonna freak."_

_"No, don't!"_

_"Okay, then I'll send it to Smidge!"_

_"No, Poppy, don't send—"_

_"Done!"_

_Branch sighed and winced when he felt another tug on his scalp. "You're an evil woman, Poppy. Ow—"_

_"Awe, thank you! You're so sweet."_

_He almost blushed._

_"His hair is so soft!" Percy exclaimed, almost in awe, and Poppy giggled._

_And Branch couldn't help but smile._

____________________

He hadn't expected the baby to fall asleep until Gia came, and luckily, he had—before Branch even noticed, he was sound asleep in his arms, curled up inside the bundle of fuzzy blue blankets.

As promised, Poppy had been generous enough to split her pay in half and give him thirty dollars, which he had gratefully thanked him for—and he, again, couldn't help but imagine actually being with Poppy inside that little house, with a son and a daughter, all of them happy and carefree as a loving family, no worries that would ever come their way.

And life would be absolutely perfect.

Maybe he needed to loosen up a little over his reputation on children, because they weren't half as bad as he thought.


	32. Sex-Crazed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A knows B is unable to cuss, so A challenges B to sing a sexy song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another request by ImafanofFANFICTIONS.
> 
> Sexual content in lyrics, enjoy!

Branch knew for a fact that Poppy was incapable of cussing. It wasn't just once or twice that Branch had stifled his laughter when Poppy had gotten frustrated over a tiny little thing and muttered what she considered to be 'swear words' under her breath. To be honest, the way she clenched her fists at her sides and kicked at the ground, intentionally creating small clouds of dirt, wearing that same pout on her face, it was absolutely adorable.

Sugar. Gummy bears. Rainbow sprinkles and extra whipped cream.

Those were what Poppy considered to be actual swearing, and Branch found it impossible to _not_ find amusing.

"Branch?"

"Mm?"

"How are you so good with words?"

"Words?"

"Ya know, you always use fancy words and fancy vocabulary when you talk."

"Fancy, huh? Is that how I sound when I talk? _Fancy?_ "

"What? It's totally a compliment."

Branch shrugged and lay his back against the stem of the mushroom, lazily knotting a rope in his hands. The material felt rough and scratchy on his skin. "I guess so."

"And along with your fancy words, you sure do know how to curse."

He couldn't help but laugh. "What do you mean by that?"

"You know... you always use the f word, and the s word, and the c word."

"Not always."

Poppy hummed as she admired her new flower bracelet with a subtle smile on her lips. "Eh, most times. You're a grumpy troll."

"Shut up."

"It's true." She pointed out. "Anyways, you should swear less often, it makes you look all cold and dark."

"It just comes out of my mouth without me knowing, it's a natural habit, Poppy."

"A natural habit that _you_ need to scrap out of your life." She corrected and grabbed her pair of scissors, snipped off a few excess leaves and pointy twigs off the handmade accessory. "It gives off a bad vibe, Branch. A bad, bad vibe."

"I bet you couldn't even swear if someone gave away their entire property." 

What he had said was mainly meant to be a joke, someone to piss Poppy a bit off, because he knew he liked seeing her pout. Again, it was adorable. What else did he have to say?

"... I would."

"Yeah, right." He snickered. "You couldn't even let a single curse word out of your mouth."

"No." She held her nose up high in the air and crossed her arms over her chest. "I could."

"Oh, really? I bet you couldn't even sing a _song_ with swear words."

That seemed to be the final straw for Poppy, because she immediately got on her feet after hearing him say that, and stood in front of him with her hands placed firmly on her hips. "I can!"

"You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, yes I would!"

He gave her a simple smirk. "Wanna bet?"

"Fine, dare me!"

"Okay, Poppy, Queen of Pop," Branch started. "... I dare you to sing a song with swear words. Lots of swear words."

"Deal."

"And it has to be a sexy song."

"A _sexy_ song?"

"What's wrong? Too scared to lose?"

"Fine, a sexy song it is!" She kicked another cloud of dirt and spun on her heels, walking away. "You want sexy? Oh, I'll show you sexy."

Branch hadn't expected Poppy to _actually_ come back to him with a sexy song. It had just been a simple joke dare.

____________________

"You sure about doing this, Poppy?" Branch sat cross-legged on the grass, picking at some dry leaves scattered across the grounds. "I don't want to be the one to ruin your innocence."

"Hush, Branch." Poppy waved a finger in his face. "Prepare to get _sex-crazed!"_

"... I don't think that's the right term for this, Poppy."

She swatted at the air as if his words were just a swarm of flies. "Yeah, yeah, say all you want, language geek."

"Poppy?" Biggie called out, holding Mr. Dinkles who was currently wearing a strange, tiny fedora. "When's the performance beginning? I even brought along Mr. Dinkles' new hat for the occasion."

"Soon, Biggie. Soon."

"Uh, Poppy?" He called out. "You _did_ tell them why we're all rallied up here today, didn't you?"

"Maybe?"

"I thought this was a fashion runway show."

Branch was about to say something to retort against all this craziness when he heard a slow, rhythmic beat that just _screamed_ sexy song.

What he witnessed next made his jaw nearly drop open.

_I know you wanna love, but I just wanna fuck  
And girl you know the deal, I gotta keep it real  
I know you wanna see, I know you wanna be  
In my B.E.D., grinding slowly_

The way she pronounced every single word almost felt like they were mesmerizing him like a hypnosis. This had all meant to be some stupid, funny joke, and now he couldn't believe that Poppy had actually accepted the dare.

_I know you wanna love, but I just wanna fuck  
And girl you know the deal, I gotta keep it real  
I know you wanna see, I know you wanna be  
In my B.E.D., grinding slowly_

Branch knew it was supposed to be sung by a guy, and if she had decided on a sexier song sung by a female, it would have been _sexy beyond compare_. But somehow, even this song seemed to fit her just right, and he didn't feel like he needed to care. In fact, he didn't even care about anything at this point. He didn't care for how the Snack Pack was actually taking this in, if they were appealed or confused or just in hysterics. All he could see and hear was Poppy.

_Ay, what it is what you wanna know?  
I done ripped about a hundred shows  
You'll be coming back to me  
Ay, you'll be coming back to me  
Always worried 'bout them other hoes  
And you'll be on me when the money throw  
And they be looking out for Quees  
And they be looking out for Quees_

Poppy took graceful yet slurred steps across the ground in front of them, her feet padding through grass. If only Poppy didn't have that sundress on replaced with some sort of exposed garment—dammit, Branch, stop thinking about it.

_Bitch bad, no Kanye, when we do it, do it our way  
2015 Wanya, I give no damn 'bout what ya mom say  
Rollie wrist, I'm the shit, 21 with no kids  
Bout to rain on a bitch, I'ma rain on a bitch_

Her eyes met his and he felt like his blood had frozen into solid ice—and then it again felt like boiling at a thousand degrees when Poppy made a show of winking right at him. He didn't even notice his cheeks burning a red color.

_I know you wanna love, but I just wanna fuck  
And girl you know the deal, I gotta keep it real  
I know you wanna see, I know you wanna be  
In my B.E.D., grinding slowly_

_I know you wanna love, but I just wanna fuck  
And girl you know the deal, I gotta keep it real  
I know you wanna see, I know you wanna be  
In my B.E.D., grinding slowly_

"Holy shit." He muttered, and his words felt empty on his tongue.

_Rollie wrist, I'm the shit, 21 with no kids  
I'ma rain on a bitch, really rain on a bitch  
Rollie wrist, I'm the shit, 21 with no kids  
I'ma rain on a bitch, really rain on a bitch_

At that moment, Branch realized two things; one, Poppy could, in fact, curse. Quite easily with song, actually. So she wasn't much of a softie as he thought. Second, Poppy was the most adorable creature to ever exist, and there was no denying that this was the actual truth.

_Say yeah, say yeah  
Say yeah, say yeah  
Say yeah, say yeah  
Say yeah, say yeah  
Say yeah, say yeah  
Say yeah, say yeah_

The beat ended and Poppy dropped her microphone onto the floor with a loud thump. Cooper began to applaud wildly. "Bravo, Poppy, bravo!"

Branch turned to find the other trolls just _staring_ straight at Poppy with either a look of shock or awe. Poppy cleared her throat and gave Branch a little nudge.

"Proved you wrong, didn't I? Tell me, Branch. Was the song _sexy_ enough for you?"

"Oh, beyond sexy."

"Just what I wanted to hear."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is B.E.D. by Jacquees.


	33. Kiss Me On A Rainy Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A and B are stuck inside a house together on a rainy night, and they end up kissing.
> 
> Human/AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for not updating in a while! Here's a request by katzoo12.
> 
> A lot of making out and kissing, nothing too explicit! Rest is up to your imagination.

_”—call our number now to get a fifty percent discount for our brand new—”_

_“—we’re too different, John, you and I. I should have known you would—”_

_“—will have mostly sunny skies with a twenty percent chance of rain, so—”_

“Poppy, please stop flicking and choose a channel, you’re gonna give me a migraine.”

“Stop pushing me, Branch. I just can’t choose what you and I’d both enjoy.” Poppy replied as her thumb clicked the button on the TV remote, staring at the screen blankly as she tried to find something Branch would approve of watching. Her hair was dripping wet, staining the wooden floors and the couch with water droplets.

Poppy absolutely loved rain. Ever since she was a little kid, she’d run out with her favorite pink raincoat and pink rain boots every time it rained—and she’d splash around puddles, smearing mud over her dad’s car, and watching worms and snails crawl about on the lawn.

Branch, on the other hand, did not like rain.

He had vague memories of being splashed incessantly by passing cars while walking along sidewalks, entering a house completely soaked from head to toe and having to wipe water off the floor for a whole hour, and somehow always managing to come back home with his feet drenched, no matter how hard he tried to cover himself up with his pathetic little umbrella.

And somehow, Branch had, on a rainy day, managed to be invited into his best friend’s house at one in the morning just because he couldn’t get his car to work. And Poppy’s dad was out for the night, anyway.

_“—the wild Bali tiger is roaming around the forest in search of prey to feast on as their late dinner—”_

_“—I’ve been backing you up, even when you ignore them! But you never listen to me—”_

“Poppy, just choose a channel already!”

“I’m trying, but if I play _My Little Pony_ , you’ll just change it again!”

“Poppy, you know very well that I absolutely despise that show!”

She didn’t reply and continued to flick through the channels lazily. And as she kept on aimlessly pushing that same one button, crazy, weird thoughts rushed through her head.

“Branchifer?”

“Yes, Poppifer?”

“Since it’s raining outside…”

“Mhm.”

For some reason, her mind kept wandering towards towards ‘kisses under the rain’ scenes in romantic movies. She was a sucker for those scenes, and she loved every single moment of them. 

And she didn’t know why, she _really didn’t know why—_

But she wanted to kiss Branch.

“... Poppy?”

“Sorry, zoned out there.” She giggled and lay flat on her stomach on top of the half-soaked couch, free hand pressed against her cheek as if that would stop the intense blush from slowly creeping up onto her face.

“Whatever. What were you gonna say?”

_I want to kiss you._

“I was saying… uh,” She quickly devised a fake answer. “... if you just wanna watch a movie instead?”

“We’d probably just start arguing about the genre, then.”

“Shush. Remember we decided to stay away whole ‘arguing thingy’ from this and just settle with Disney? Keep our favorite genres to ourselves?”

“Agree to disagree.”

She hummed, satisfied, and clicked a few more buttons to login into her Netflix account. And yet, she still wanted to ask him if she could kiss him.

“Let’s watch _Sex Education._ ”

_“Poppy!”_

“What?”

“You know that’s a very, very inappropriate show—”

“So does this mean you’ve watched it before?”

“What? I… no!”

“Ohhhh!” Poppy threw her hands up in the air, whooping. “You were _so_ exposed!”

"No." Branch shook his head and looked away from her. "No, we are _not_ talking about this anymore." He snatched the remote from her hands before she could say a word. "I'm choosing what we're watching, and you can't change my mind."

"Hey!" Poppy scrambled onto her knees and lunged for the remote, crawling around the couch on all fours. "Gimme that!"

"It's mine!"

She dove for him, arms outstretched for the TV remote. "I swear to god, Branch, I'll—"

And she didn't know how it happened—because one second she had been grabbing the other end of the remote with her hand, and the other, she was on top of her best friend, her lips pressed against his own.

Oh sugar, they were _kissing._

She was the first to pull away, and she couldn't dare describe how hot her face felt. "Oh. Heh." She carefully began pushing himself off her, hands against his torso—his well-built body underneath her palms and fingertips. "Sorry. That wasn't... supposed to happen."

"Uh..." Branch was flushed underneath her, and Poppy couldn't deny how adorable he looked. "No, it's alright. It's alright. Totally a mistake."

Silence ensued for a few seconds, and it felt the first time in years that Poppy had no idea what to say or do.

"... wanna try again?"

"I'm down."

And so they kissed again, fingers tangled in each other's hair.

His kiss was not at all the same as those movie stars, but one steeped in a passion that ignited. It was the promise of realness, of the primal desire that lived in them all. And with it he told her that he was awake, connected within, that he embraced himself rather than hide as a copy of those romantic idols.

It wasn’t like one of those close-mouthed kisses like you did when you’re in eighth grade and you’ve never held hands before with a girl. It was full on, open-mouthed, almost sexual kiss. And she loved it. She loved the way his body melted into hers, and with him, vice versa. The way their lips fit like two puzzle pieces. His hand made his way to her cheek and his thumb caressed her skin.

His lips felt so gentle so warm, she felt her hands begin to slide up his chest and encircle his neck, as the kiss began to grow heavy. Branch's hand slid off her face and tightened around her waist. She continued kissing him hungrily wanting more. The kiss went on, their lips moving in perfect sync and the kiss becoming more passionate by the second. Their lips fitted perfectly—as if they were meant for each other. Moving against each other, feeling each other. Branch grabbed the back of Poppy's neck, growling in the kiss as Poppy whimpered in pleasure.

"You lead."

"You're on top, why don't you?"

She pulled his shirt over his head and pushed him hard onto the couch, almost carelessly tossing the garment onto the wet floors. It wasn't the greatest place to have sex, but both of them were too into it to care.

Poppy felt a hot breath on her neck, then the tender brush of lips. Burning as they made contact with her neck. A hand ran through her hair, as the kisses became harder and more urgent. Another hand slid around her waist, and pulled her close to his pine-scented body. She felt she owned the world. All she could focus on was Branch. On the soft moan he just made, on the intoxicating feeling of diving head first into an erupting volcano and most of all, the way he tasted like November, like hot chocolate on stormy evenings and crisp autumn air.

The heat flowing throughout her body began to grow as she felt his other hand slide through her cleavage and onto the shirt of her dress, in contact with the buttons as he slowly began to unhook them, her shirt began to hang loosely.

Time had begun to dissolve into itself, as shapeless as the rain. The night dragged on without a care in the world, and it was just them. Just the TV remote, him and her. Nothing to impede, nothing to interfere.

They felt complete, and the night did too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be fluff, okay? I didn't expect the story to be hot.


	34. Baby Princesses And Little Survivors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A meets B for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another fun little request by katzoo12. Thank you for requesting! And thanks to wildkratticusfever, a.k.a. Wild Sugar for the ideas!
> 
> I realized that I've gotten 60 more kudos since the last time I actually checked... thank you, all of you guys are amazing. 
> 
> Also, I feel like writing a Hogwarts AU.
> 
> So anyone with a Hogwarts AU prompt in mind, can you comment it down below so I can take a look? Thanks!

He was only seven. And yet here he was, kneeling in the shrubs, hands on the ground as he picked up sticks and twigs for the firewood he needed.

Yes. He was seven. A seven-year-old who completely understood the danger of bergens and staying outdoors while singing, dancing and hugging like a troll on drugs. He was way smarter, and he knew better.

And he intended to keep himself that way. Never in a million years would he ever let himself sing again. Not after what happened. The thought itself still made him shudder, and threatened to break his facade.

Sometimes he wished life wasn’t so dull and dreadful.

And he also wished he had heard that little trolling toddle over to him. He really, really wished she could have heard.

“Hi, Bwanch!”

His survival instincts had kicked at the right moment, and if the princess had been at least a few more steps near him, she would have been slapped in the face. And Branch _did not_ want to be the one to slap the four-year-old princess.

The little trolling giggled, and the laugh sounded like a doorbell in the early mornings.

“You know my name.”

“I’m Poppy!” It was almost as if she hadn’t really heard him.

“I know. You’re the princess.”

She laughed again, and Branch scowled. What on earth did she find so incredibly funny? Was it his attire? His looks? His colors?

"What are you doing, Bwanch?"

"Collecting firewood in case of heavy snow this winter." He replied rather bluntly. To his surprise, her face lit up.

"Can I do it too?"

"No."

"Pwease?"

It was rather irritating for Branch, really—having to listen to a four-year-old girl babble in front of him, unable to pronounce her 'l's and 'r's, making his name sound like some sort of name for a duck.

_Bwanch._

He did _not_ like that one bit.

"... no."

Little princess Poppy crossed her arms over her chest and kicked at the ground. "Sugar."

"Look, Princess Poppy." He started without looking up from his armful of sticks. "Why don't you go back to your daddy? I'm sure King Peppy's looking all over for you, he'd be worried sick."

"Nuh uh!" She stood on her tippie-toes and shook her head. "It's okay, Daddy knows where I am alweady!"

"Sure he does. Get back to the village, it's dangerous out here."

"What happened to your colors?"

He felt his own breath hitch and his heart lodge itself into his throat, his body refusing to move so suddenly—he knew his loss of colors was a very sensitive topic to him, and it always made his bones rigid and his mind hazy, and he could hear screams and ghosts and spirits haunting his soul.

He didn't like children. But Branch didn't want to have a meltdown and break in front of a four-year-old. Branch was strong, Branch was aloof, and Branch was better off alone. He was responsible, he was tough, and he knew better than anyone else.

That was who he was meant to be.

"... I don't have any."

"Why not?"

"Something happened. Don't ask me what it is." He said, his voice dropping to a low whisper. _No, Branch. Your reputation remains the same. Don't break. Don't show weakness._

_Never, ever, show weakness. That's how they get to you, and that's how you'll hurt them._

"Gwey's a color." She quietly pointed out. "So is bwack. Gween's a color too!" Branch couldn't get his feet to move from their glued spots as the princess approached him. "And look! Bwue!" She pointed eagerly at his eyes with a wide, baby-teethed smile. "You have bwue too!"

He tried to say something, but couldn't—because for the first time in his life since the incident, someone had actually managed to lift his spirits and point out something he had never realized. It hadn't been only once or twice that he had been humiliated, ridiculed for his dull hues—they called him bland, drab, dreary.

Washed-out.

Even if nothing never seemed to make him feel _completely_ better about himself, Branch was suddenly reminded of his own eye color.

Blue. The remnants of what he had once been, what color he used to be. _Who_ he had once been.

He could still see himself, two years ago, holding the rose to his lips as he sang his heart out to the tree, to the world... to his beloved grandmother. Oh, how he missed her so.

"You're colors are really pwetty, Bwanch." Poppy cooed, her hands clasped behind her back as she rocked back and forth on her heels. "I like pink best! But I like bwue too! And maybe black can be pretty!"

He couldn't stop the smile from slowly making its way onto his face—who would have ever thought a little four-year-old trolling would have managed such a troll like him ignite with a small spark of hope?

_"Poppy, Poppy! Sweetie?"_ King Peppy's voice echoed throughout the trees like an echo from the other side of a tunnel. The smile slipped off his face and his arms wrapped tighter around his small bundle of sticks. His feet could finally move again and he took several cautious steps back away from the confused princess.

"Go on now." Branch called out softly. "You're daddy's looking for you."

A tiny, adorable smile spread across the little trolling's features, and she waved. "Goodbye, Bwanch!"

And as the little princess turned on her heels and disappeared into the forest, Branch making sure on last time that she was going towards the right direction of the village, made his way back to his bunker. Thinking longingly of the warm, fuzzy feeling the ever-so-young Poppy had offered him like nobody had ever before. His fingers curled around the twigs in his hold.

Maybe. Just, _maybe_.

... maybe his colors weren't as dark as he thought they were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, in case you didn't see the first beginning note...
> 
> **Hogwarts AUs?**


	35. Troll Flu And Songs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A gets sick and insists they're fine, only to collapse. B, worried, rushes A to the medics and falls asleep next to them. Next day, A wakes up better, but B is sick instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's katzoo12's next request! Enjoy!
> 
> And like I asked for in the earlier chapter, can we have some Hogwarts AU prompts? I'm dying to write one based off Harry Potter, but I can't seem to find the perfect Broppy prompt!

Poppy never got sick. Ever. She knew she never got sick, and even when she did (which was, of course, never the case), a simple cold or sniffles she could fight against.

When Branch noticed Poppy’s slow steps and her slurred talking, he knew in a second she was sick with something, and there was no denying it whatsoever.

“Poppy?” He called as he walked up to her that morning, brows knitted and forming a small frown. “You don’t look so good—do you have a fever?”

She slapped his hand away, which he had been moving towards her forehead to see if she was burning up or not, and Poppy forced out a chuckle. “I’m _fine_ , Branch. See? Still as Poppy as ever!”

“Of course you are.” He said. “Can you at least let me feel your temperature?”

“Branch, like I said—I’m completely fine.” She shook her head, and the small move itself brought her head aching. “Don’t make such a fuss about it.”

They had spent half of the day after that, Poppy going around the entire village with her queenly duties and, as always, Branch beside her, assisting her in anyway possible. Through the corner of her eyes, Poppy could always see the teal troll giving her looks along the way, as if checking on her to make sure either she was walking fine, or wasn’t coming down with any coughs.

It wasn’t long until a very worried Branch confronted her.

“Okay, Poppy. Something’s not right here.” He insisted, and his voice didn’t waver one bit. Poppy was almost surprised by how authorative he sounded at the moment—of course, not that it was anything to be surprised about, really, he _was_ perfect king material—and she couldn’t help but halt to a stop and listen.

“What?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, Poppy.” And this time, she didn’t stop her when he brought a hand up to her forehead, feeling the heat radiating off her. Branch pulled his hand back as if something had stung him, and a frown crossed over his features. “Poppy, you’re burning up. A lot.”

She didn’t know where the sudden burst of adrenaline had suddenly come from throughout all the headaches, the cramps, and the sore throats she had been experiencing without telling anyone all day, but she wasn’t sick. She was fine. And she _knew_ she was fine.

_“Branch!”_

That finally shut him up, and his lips screwed shut, he stared back at her, face solid and unmoving like stone. The mix of concern and hurt cast over his face like a shadow made her regret shouting, but another wave of agony like a train colliding with her head managed to shove that thought away. Poppy forced herself to stay put, and somehow, she didn’t even flinch.

“How many time do I have to tell you I’m fine?”

_You’re fine, you’re fine._

“I keep telling you the same thing over and over, and you just don’t listen to me!”

_Nothing’s wrong._

“I’ve had enough of you, Branch! M-my patience is wearing thin!”

_Something’s wrong._

“Maybe you should…”

_You’re not fine. You’re not fine, you’re not fine, you’re not fine._

And for Branch, the second her face paled as her eyes rolled back into her head, figure slumping, he had wasted no time in rushing over and catching the queen in his arms, holding her close to his own chest. Her skin was hot and sweaty and burning, her arms and hands were clammy.

_Must be the fatigue._ He picked her up as quick as possible, his head swimming unhelpfully and his mouth uncharacteristically dry. His limbs felt like his muscles had been taken out and replaced with over-stretched elastic bands. Her limp body slumped against his and his legs trembled despite her light weight as his feet moved towards Dr. Plum Plimsy’s, his heart thumping.

What if there was something seriously wrong with her?

What if she could never wake up?

As soon as the doctor saw her queen, lying in the troll’s arms, she had wasted no time in taking her onto a stretcher and executing a quick check-up… and the whole time, Branch stood outside the door, pacing back at forth with his suddenly tired limbs hanging onto his body like limp puppet strings.

He should have been more persistent. It felt like his fault.

Somehow, everything led to being his fault one way or another. Eventually, it just did.

When Dr. Plum Plimsy finally allowed Branch inside, she had explained things on the way—she had come down with the troll flu, and that apparent stress from duties around the village had driven Poppy to, as Branch had guessed earlier, extreme fatigue. He was grateful to hear that she had only passed out, really. But how could he not be worried?

As soon as he was left alone in the room with Poppy, he sat down beside the bed she was lying in—he wished he had been quicker in taking, or dragging her to the doctor. Or maybe he shouldn’t have pried. Something in his mind kept telling him that he was part of what fed her so much stress.

Her skin had a bit of color, fortunately, than before, and she no longer seemed to be burning up, even if mildly feverish. He should have known it was the flu when she started coughing and sniffling, it should have been obvious. 

Branch leaned over the bed, elbows on the mattress at the area beside her waist, and carefully slipped her hand into his, rubbing his thumb against her smooth, pink skin. It felt nice under his touch, and he quickly glanced up to get a look of her face when she started fussing in her sleep. “Shh, shhh…” He shushed her quietly and reached over to brush her hair out of her face, at the same time managing to tuck the covers underneath her chin. Soon, she was back to her once peaceful state.

Without thinking, he began to sing.

_Funny how things change in life  
You never know what comes next  
Living day by day in conflict and strife  
And then I see you and I’m blessed_

It was a song he had never sung before. They were words forming out of his mouth, his melody and his lyrics. It had been a while since he had sung a song of his own, but he did it anyway.

_All the glory, the renewed days has begun  
This burden was more than expected  
A new start with every rising sun  
Even when I fall, I’ll rise once again_

_This is my place, this is my home  
You’re right here by my side  
So I know I’m never alone  
Your beauty beside me and a fire within me grows_

_I can see your smile, your wonder  
And now I’m brave enough to face the sky  
You’re always right here for me, so I’m never afraid  
My limitations no longer apply_

_You’ve got me and I’ve got you  
It’s all now plain and clear to see  
That you’re just another miracle  
Passing by and happened to stumble over me_

_This is my place, this is my home  
You’re right here by my side  
So I know I’m never alone  
Your beauty beside me and a fire within me grows_

The air grew silent again, and Branch turned to see an ever-so-small smile blossomed upon Poppy’s face. He soon felt a blackness come over him like a warm, fuzzy blanket. It somehow made his eyes feel heavier and heavier. He finally closed his eyes, the world sending him into a dreamless sleep, arms draped over the bed with his hand still grasping Poppy’s.

____________________

When Poppy finally woke up, everything was blurry. For a second, she didn’t even know who or where she was Then, everything was processed. She was in the medics pod. The thing above her was the ceiling. The thing underneath her was the pillow and mattress. The thing she were wearing was her daily blue sundress. She could see everything clearly now.

And that teal lump slowly shifting beside her was…

“Branch?” She tried calling out, and winced as soon as she heard how raspy her voice was, it sounded like a croak of a toad. So Poppy tried again. “Branch?”

He slowly rose from the bed, elbows pushing against the mattress underneath him as he drowsily rubbed his eyes. Branch’s eyes were red and his face looked rather pale. He sniffled once, lazily rubbing cheek, and that’s when Poppy knew he shouldn’t have fallen asleep beside him.

Branch groaned a little and scratched the back of his neck, trying to get his bearings and process just how _awful_ he felt. “Mm, Poppy? You okay?”

“Are _you_ okay?”

He sniffed again. Apparently the troll flu was contagious, and Poppy couldn’t deny the fact that he looked absolutely adorable, even when sick.

“Looks like it’s my turn to take care of you, mister.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song was written entirely by me on the fly. Hope it was good enough, the melody is up for you to decide! I just wanted Branch to sing a rather simple song. :D
> 
> Also... Hogwarts AUs? :D


	36. Come Sit With Me At The Gryffindor Table

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A gets bullied in the school corridors, and B stands up for them.
> 
> Human/AU  
> Hogwarts/AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First ever Hogwarts AU! Woohoo!
> 
> Yeah, sorry. A good friend of mine, Malachite14, gave me this wonderful Hogwarts AU prompt that I just HAD to write. There's another amazing one that Nerdee_GK gave me, and that'll be up soon as well! Sorry, I just can't stop imagining these two in their Hogwarts robes, it's so cute!
> 
> And also, sometimes I really hate my mom? I was writing a chapter on Poppy falling into an ice lake and Branch saving her—and then she accidentally went and deleted the whole thing. I was halfway through. And when I tell her about it, she doesn't even apologize, acts as if it were nothing and tells me to get my work done? uGh.
> 
> Anyway, here's Malachite14's request. Enjoy!

He knew it was only a matter of seconds before his books were pulled from his arms and he was cornered by those Slytherin kids. Happened every single break period.

Branch Woods quietly made his way down the school corridors of Hogwarts, clutching his Potions textbook tightly in his arms to his chest. Alone like always, averting glares and whispers obviously subjected to him. He'd learned to ignore them a long time ago.

He was lanky and an average-height, rarely looked people in the eyes, quite aloof. He was extremely bright, one of the bravest Ravenclaws in the school. Quiet and a loner. A known orphan. The perfect target for all houses. They'd beat him to a pulp and there was nothing this boy could do about it.

He tried professors, of course. Tried telling prefects, too. None of them really helped at all, and it wasn't like Branch had wanted to tell about his own petty little problems in the first place, right?

It hadn't been so bad at first—first they had only been the usual name-calling: _freak, know-it-all, bastard._ And then it moved onto occasional tripping of feet, purposely-made bumps into shoulders, knocking down books and ink bottles. Ripping parchment and essays.

And throughout all that, Branch Woods somehow managed to keep his grades the highest in the class. This, of course, infuriated his targeters more than anyone.

So they became worse. Quills and paper strewn across floors with a dirty, smudged bookbag, punches and kicks thrown here and there, bloody lips and bruises and black eyes. It grew to be a daily routine, and it almost surprised Branch on how none of the teachers, despite knowing, weren't doing anything about this.

Not that he cared that much, anyway. He'd keep to himself until he had to graduate. Because that was just how things were.

"Hey, Woods."

As expected, his books were slapped out of his hand and they were tossed across the grounds, his bookbag slipping off his shoulder in the process. He winced a little at the sound of glass shattering and sighed. Good waste of a brand new ink bottle.

Creek Willows, his least-favorite Slytherin and well-known arse, stood at his side, clenched fists and a very disgusting smug smile. "How're we doing today?"

He didn't reply and only stared back. Nobody in the hall paused to interfere.

"Not much of a talker, are we?" He sneered, and nodded towards his bag—a cue for them to take out all his stuff. Soon, those other boys were kneeling on the floor, pulling the contents from the bag and dumping them onto the floor. Branch didn't flinch a bit.

As he tried to push him away and walk over to pick up his quill, he heard Creek Willows talking right next to him. "You useless son of a bitch. Just like your dad. Just your useless, know-it-all brain, that's all you're good for. Should've let you kill yourself years ago." Branch raised his hand to wipe the spittle from his cheek, awful, awful memories swimming back into his mind.

"Fuck you, Creek Willows." He muttered, and it was barely heard. Of course, it had been purposely spoken to let that arse hear him, since it wouldn't really make a difference—and he felt somewhat proud when he saw that smirk slowly change into a scowl.

"You disgusting worm." Creek Willows growled and shoved him in the shoulder with a finger, and Branch swallowed the lump in his throat. He was used to the beatings—that didn't mean he liked them. "No wonder your mommy and daddy died—they couldn't stand being around their own pitiful excuse of a son."

Branch looked down as Willows spat insults at him, he tried not to show that he was hurting inside. What else could he do? His own parents were a rather touchy subject—of course, nobody knew that. Suddenly, he felt his fist land on his face. He stumbled backwards and blood trickled from his nose. A familiar sensation indeed.

"You don't belong here, Woods, alright?" Creek Willows said. "You're supposed to be rotting. You don't need to be in school, eh?" He felt a hard kick in his calf, and Branch hissed through his teeth as he felt something crack. "Aren't you tired of it already? Why won't you give up?"

"Because I can take it." Branch muttered in response, hand lazily wiping the blood trickling over his lips. His words felt slurred and heavy and thick. "Keep doing it, I'm not throwing myself off a cliff just yet, Willows. You're far from that."

"This is just the beginning, you won't last a second after what I'm about to do to you."

"Wanna bet?"

He clenched his fist, a vein popped out of his forehead. He swung his arm. He began to feel light-headed, his legs gave way and he crumbled to the ground. His vision blurred as tiny droplets of sweat ran down his forehead. Again, nobody stopped to interfere. Why would they? It was a daily routine. Just a daily routine.

A daily routine. Just like classes and lessons, lunch and dinner, walks from one end of the hall to the other. Nobody cared.

It felt as if Willows was about the deliver the final blow when a voice cut through the air, completely clean, like a sharpened knife.

"Creek, you let the poor boy go."

Branch Woods wearily lifted his head and his eyes slowly opened, black spots swimming in his vision as he tried to use his shaky limbs to upright himself. God, he felt like an idiot—he was probably making a huge spectacle out of himself. And through his fucked-up sight, he could make out the figure of Poppy Kingsley standing just a few feet away from him.

Poppy Kingsley was a Gryffindor—a Gryffindor whom everybody simply adored. She was everything, really: pretty, optimistic, cute, a great seeker for her Quidditch team. She had the most vibrant pink hair Branch had ever seen, and the prettiest smile he had ever witnessed. Not that he ever talked to her or anything. She was always surrounded by tons of friends, and he reckoned she really wouldn't want a loner like him around anyways.

"Poppy..." Flustered, Creek forced out and chuckle and nodded towards him. "It's _Woods. _What's the matter with playing around with him for a bit?"__

__

__"You're being a jerk, Creek." Poppy spat, and the way she said it almost made Branch laugh. Of course he didn't. "Now go, class starts soon."_ _

__

__With an incoherent mumble, Creek and his cronies left, and the bystanders soon began leaving the scene, either indifferent to the whole situation or just bored since the fun was basically over. Branch watched as Poppy Kingsley made his way over to him to kneel down beside him. "Oh Merlin, Branch, are you okay?" Her hand was then on his back, helping him sit up against one of the pillars in the hall. Every single muscle in his body felt as if it were creaking and groaning with the tiniest movement._ _

__

__"You know my name."_ _

__

__"Of course I do, everyone does." Poppy Kingsley replied as she dusted the dirt and soot off his back, scurrying around the floor to pick up his stuff. She stacked the books, rolls of parchment and spare quills inside his bookbag, tucking his wand in with them. "Geez, you have a ton of stuff—how do all these even fit in here?"_ _

__

__"Undetectable Extension Charm." He muttered quietly as he wearily rubbed his eye with the back of his hand, shakily rising to his feet. "Comes in handy."_ _

__

__"Stands to reason that you're so good in Charms class." Poppy hummed as she picked up his bag, grunting with effort. Branch quickly took it from her and slung the leather strap over his shoulder, still confused as to why Poppy Kingsley was actually helping him._ _

__

__"Charms is an easy subject, what can I say?"_ _

__

__"No way, Charms is hard." Poppy Kingsley retorted, and Branch raised an eyebrow._ _

__

__"Why, Kingsley?"_ _

__

__"Huh?"_ _

__

__"Why did you drive Creek away?"_ _

__

__She stared at him, almost blankly for quite a while before responding. She actually looked dumbfounded. "Because it's not right."_ _

__

__"It happens everyday."_ _

__

__"And I'm..." The confused look slowly dissolved and was soon replaced with a small frown, eyes flickering towards the ground. "... I'm sorry I never attempted to help. I just thought it wasn't my place to interfere."_ _

__

__"Makes sense."_ _

__

__"Do you..." Poppy Kingsley blinked. "... need me to take you to the infirmary? You're hurt."_ _

__

__"I can manage. It's no big deal."_ _

__

__"Branch, listen." And when Poppy Kingsley grasped his hand at that very second, her fingers wrapping tightly around his, he couldn't help but somewhat feel his heart flutter. It was a strange sensation, but he didn't hate it. "You seem like a good guy. I want to get to know you better. Come sit with me at the Gryffindor table during lunch?" She offered him a small, sweet smile._ _

__

__"I, uh... I don't know—"_ _

__

___"Please?"_ _ _

__

__"You're not..." He hesitated. "... you're not inviting to sit with you just out of pity, right? Because I'm fine—"_ _

__

__"It's not out of pity." She shook her head. "I just wanna be friends. Sounds good?"_ _

__

__"... Sounds good."_ _

__

__

__

__"Oh!" Poppy Kingsley reached into her robe pockets and fished out a small, pink handkerchief, held it to his face. "You're bleeding." And then she carefully wiped his cheek, then under his nose, as he stood in the corridors, face redder than it had ever been. And hell, was he embarrassed. But he liked it. He really, really did._ _

__

__She soon pulled away and tuck the handkerchief back into her robe. She squinted. "I think you should wash up—but really, a small trip to the infirmary won't hurt."_ _

__

__"I'll consider it."_ _

__

__Poppy Kingsley giggled—her gentle sound could make the lamplight more golden and the fires burn warmer. "I'll see you later, Branchie boi." And with that, the pink mop of hair soon disappeared into the crowds and clusters of students before he could say a word._ _

__

__At least he now had something to look forward to for the day._ _


	37. Our Little Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A is worried and anxious as their wife is hunched over in the pain of labor, and their wife, B, tries to comfort A.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I, have, returrrnnnnneeeeeed!_
> 
> So finals are over—finally, god—and now I have about two months before midterms. During that time, I'll try to hurry on with those requests because hell, am I late on catching up.
> 
> Sorry for keeping y'all waiting without saying anything, have this new oneshot as a gift to cheer you up!
> 
>  **Basic disclaimer before we start:** I know how troll births work, eggs, blah blah blah... but just bear with me. Because this oneshot isn't gonna have eggs shooting out of their hair.
> 
> Prompt requested by ImafanofFANFICTIONS.

Forty, long weeks.

That was how long Branch had waited for the birth of his soon-to-be newborn baby girl.

He'd never admit it, but there were days when he used to think of what his own children would be like back in his lonely bunker days. Of course, he didn't know back then that the former princess would have been the one to carry their child—to be honest, if someone had come up to him and said that in less than ten years, he'd get married to the Poppy and have kids with her while ruling the village as king, he would have laughed and kindly told them to go shove a tree up their asses and get themselves chowed down by bergens. Yup, that was _exactly_ what he would have said.

Now, he wouldn't change what he had for the world.

It hadn't really been planned, the pregnancy. They had both gotten too drunk that night, and the last thing Branch remembered was pouring himself another glass of whiskey, muttering the words 'one more' rather continuously, before finding himself waking up on a bed, his beloved wife next to him with her bare body pressed against his sticky skin.

Yeah, that was pretty much it. The juice stopped there.

It turned out, much to his joy, that it was going to be a girl—to be frank, he's always longed for a daughter. Even back in his bunker, where he used to be an inexperienced teenager who'd never even kissed, much less held hands with a female troll before. And now he, the used-to-be grumpiest troll in the village, the joy killer and the paranoid hermit, was now betrothed to his dear queen. 

Life couldn't have taken a stranger—or better—turn.

But now, he couldn't think of anything. Because all he could do was watch and grip onto Poppy's hand like a vice as she lay on the cot, face flushed and forehead coated with sweat. In labor until their baby was born to the world.

"I can see the head, push, Queen Poppy." Doctor Moonbloom said, and as Poppy let out a pained shriek, Branch couldn't help but feel his heart shatter. Her every-so-bubbly, wonderful, beautiful, optimistic wife, hurting and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He didn't dare say anything as Poppy squeezed his hand tighter, her nails digging into his skin almost painfully.

"Push, my Queen!"

She cried out with a wail as another major contraction hit her again, and Branch winced visibly, biting his bottom lip with his teeth. Cold sweat glistened on his furrowed brow. Thousands of possibilities and thoughts and emotions rushed through his head like a freight train, his stomach swarming with butterflies that made him feel _sick_.

"The head's nearly out, Queen Poppy. We're almost there!"

"Branch, Branch!" Her hand let go of his briefly before grasping it once again, latching onto him as if he were her last life resort. "Branch—"

She let her head fall back onto the pillow underneath her head, gasping for breath. "Branch—"

"Poppy, I'm sorry. This is all my fault, I wish I could do something but seeing you in so much pain just hurts me so, so much, and I can't... I can't... and the worst thing is that I can't even do anything about it, I'm so, so sorry—"

_"Branch."_ Her voice was raspy but somewhat firm, which immediately caught his attention. "It hurts, it _does_ hurt. But this pain, it's a good thing." She gave his hand a weak squeeze and a tired smile. "It just shows how strong our baby is, how determined... and we're going to see our new baby girl. Branch, this pain makes me happy. And it should make you happy too."

"But I can't be happy if you're in pain. I just can't."

"We should be. For the baby."

"She's moving, we have to help her, Queen Poppy. Push, just a little bit more."

It had nearly been three hours since the labor had actually begun, and Branch had never been more worried. Not even when the bergens were present as their foes. Because there she was, his beautiful Poppy, lying on the white-sheeted bed, legs spread apart as she delivered a baby. Their baby.

Poppy let out a bloodcurling scream at another contraction. Tears flowed down her cheeks and over her flushed skin, her teeth gritted. Her whole body was shaking from obvious discomfort and pain, and Branch suddenly wished he was the one feeling the pain while she gave birth. 

"I... I..." She gasped out, throwing her head back as she squeezed her eyes shut.

"The baby is as tired as you are, my Queen. We're almost there, don't give up now!"

"Agh!" Poppy let out a pained groan and opened her eyes a little, looking over to Doctor Moonbloom, so did Branch—indeed, they could see her cradling the head of a newborn baby, and Branch could already see tufts of Prussian-blue hair. His heart wildly skipped a beat and pounded.

"You can do this, Poppy, please."

It went on for a while, about a thirty more minutes or so—until Poppy gave one last push in her abdomen with a cry and their baby was finally out. Branch watched, almost in awe and relief as Dr. Moonbloom wrapped their child in a fuzzy blue blanket, wiping the blood and afterbirth off her with a towel. Branch leaned down and kissed Poppy's forehead and lips and cheeks and basically every single area of her face his lips could find. "You did great, Poppy. You did great."

Poppy was soon handed the tiny bundle, and her weary eyes traveled over to their baby's face and a weak smile blossomed over her features. "Look, Branch." She said softly. "She has your eyes."

The baby was wailing quietly, tiny hands curled up into fists, their tuft of blue hair, already dry and fuzzy, sticking out from underneath the blankets. Branch let out a shaky exhale and leaned in to get a closer look. Sure enough, through quick glimpses, he caught sight of a clear shade of blue pupils. Her sweet, lavender-colored skin stood out rather greatly with her hair and her eyes, and this didn't go unnoticed by any of them.

"... she's perfect. Like an angel."

"Just like you, Branch." Poppy said and gave him a gentle kiss on his cheek. "I love you so much."

"Congratulations, Queen Poppy." Dr. Moonbloom said with a wide smile on her face. "It's your first newborn."

"Yeah, she is." Poppy breathed, not taking her eyes off their baby, who was squirming lightly in the bundle of blankets. "Not sure if I'll be able to handle another one... but I'll consider that."

"Can I hold her?" Branch asked softly, and Poppy gladly passed their daughter into his arms. Branch cradled his little girl and brushed against her hair with his finger—she had stopped crying at this point and was focusing on blinking and taking in the light around her. The baby blinked and let out a soft cry before reaching up to hold his finger, her tiny palm fitting against it perfectly. He couldn't help but let out a small laugh, and the sudden swell of memories and emotions washed over him like a tide. He blinked back several tears. He turned to Poppy. "You're a mom now."

"And you're a father." Poppy replied.

Branch, minding the bundle of joy in his arms, leaned in and rested his forehead against hers. "I'm so proud of you."

Yes, pain _was_ terrifying. And, of course, it's painful. Just how it should be. But sometimes, the pain you endured brought you to the most wonderful, well-deserved outcomes and miracles. Because at the end, it's all worth it. The everyday-pain they suffered and went blindly went through, brought in everyday-miracles. And Branch couldn't have been more thankful for this new, extraordinary miracle he had received that day.


	38. The Death of Cheryl The Ant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A accidentally kills an ant and it's up to B to comfort them.
> 
> Human/AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A cute, short fluff requested by All_Greenie.
> 
> This is still my favorite fandom, so I'm not stopping writing these oneshots any time soon.

It was just another normal walk in the park after a very, very long day of school, and Branch was beat from that biology exam they took that day.

It was always Poppy who dragged him along to everyday activities—shopping, dinner, bowling, you name it. And Branch liked spending time with her, although he promised himself he'd never admit it. Not in a million years.

And then it happened. The inevitable.

Poppy suddenly skid to a stop and gripped Branch's arm, her eyes widening in obvious panic.

"Branch."

"... What?"

"..."

"Poppy?"

_"No no no no no—"_ Branch watched as Poppy let go of him and hopping on her right foot, made her way to a bench. She yanked off her left pink Converse and turned it so that she faced the sole. "Oh my goodness." Her face was pale.

"What in the world are you doing, Poppy?"

She looked up at him, her bottom lip quivering. She looked as if she'd burst to tears in seconds. "... I'm a murderer, Branch."

"What the hell do you mean? And what does your shoe have to do with any of this?"

Without a word, she tossed the shoe at him and Branch luckily managed to catch it before it smashed into his face—Poppy didn't have the best aim. He flipped it over and looked at the sole of the shoe like Poppy had done, half-expecting maybe a drop of blood, maybe even a—

A black-colored tiny blob, with a bit of green-ish goo. He made a face.

"It's an ant, Poppy."

"I know." She pulled her feet—one with a shoe on, one without—and wrapped her arms around her legs, pulling her knees to her chest.

"You kill millions of bugs and germs everyday, Poppy." He said with a sigh. "When you drink, or eat, or just simply even walk—"

She let out a tiny sob and Branch then realized that had been the wrong thing to say.

"I, uh... listen." Branch, holding her shoe, went over and sat on the bench beside Poppy—not too close, but not too far away either. "The ant—"

"Cheryl?"

"Pardon me?"

"Her name is Cheryl."

"How do you even know that?"

She didn't reply and let out a long cry. He'd have to do this the Poppy way.

"So," He tried. "... you ever heard of Ant Heaven?"

Poppy lifted her head, her face marked with tears stains. "... No."

"It's this amazing place." Branch started. "They have huge playgrounds, and, uh... a bunch of mini rollercoasters for the ants to ride. And also, um, they have a giant food fountain where they can eat all the food they want. And queen ants don't exist there, so there's no capitalism or... slavery." He finished and nearly cringed at what he had said—god, he was so weird.

She sniffed and glanced towards him. "... A food fountain?"

"Uh, yeah." He put on a smile. "So they don't need to scavenge for food on the ground. It gives them anything they please."

"That _does_ sound pretty nice."

"And I'm sure the ant— _I mean,_ Cheryl, forgives you."

Poppy gave him a tiny smile. "You really think so?"

"Yeah, I do."

He was caught by surprise when Poppy suddenly dived towards him and wrapped his arms around his middle. "Thank you, Branch."

Who knew the death of an ant would have been the reason for Branch to fall for Poppy Kingsley?


	39. Ms. Jelly, Ms. Jealous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A grows jealous when they see B and C hanging out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by BeatriceRicci! Thank you!

Poppy watched as those two walked along the forest path, laughing and talking and just _ugh_ , was she pissed.

She wanted to burn holes into the back of their heads, she really did—but mostly Barb’s. Yeah, Barb was her bestie, Queen of Rock, near destructor of music, yadda yadda yadda... but Poppy had _not_ expected Barb to be the one to steal _her_ Branch.

That’s right. _Her_ Branch. She wasn’t afraid to say it. They were a couple, for glitter’s sake.

Sometimes when Poppy saw Barb next to Branch, she had the sudden urge to grab her mohawk and rip it off her perfect head, use it as a scarf to mark her victory over the sweetest troll in the whole wide world.

Okay, maybe she was exaggerating. Just a tiny little bit.

“See ya, Barb.” Branch began making his way away from the rock troll, and Poppy finally felt that tight knot in her chest leave her body, ceasing to grab and shake her nerves like a magic 8 ball. But that little, teeny weeny voice just _whispering_ into her ear didn’t go away.

“Branch.” Poppy put on the most charming smile she could manage onto her face, and it hurt her cheeks.

“Hey, babe.” And when Branch’s soft lips met hers, the fuzzy warm feeling that drived her mind insane tingled over her arms and legs. “Sorry, I was catching up with Barb.”

“Barb, huh? How come?”

He shrugged. “She’s an interesting person. Besides, it’s only been a month since our unification, I thought it would be a good opportunity to get to know other types of trolls.”

“That’s it?”

Branch raised an eyebrow as he slowly offered her his arm. “... did you expect more reasons?”

“No, no. Not at all.”

“... Right.” 

Poppy hummed quietly as she squeezed Branch’s arm tighter—she didn’t want to be an obsessive, clingy girlfriend. God, those were the worst. But at the same time, she wanted nobody stealing her man, and she was determined to keep it that way. But that was still a hard task to do—female trolls swooned over him all the time.

“... Poppy, are you, uh, jealous of me and Barb hanging out?”

“What?” Poppy blurted out and let out a loud laugh, making him involuntarily flinch. “Me? Queen Poppy? _Jealous?_ Ha! Ha! No, no no no. Of course not, what kind of troll would I be to be jealous of their own best friend, hanging out with their boyfriend, and he happens to tell them that they’re an ‘interesting person’, and—”

“Poppy.”

She let out a long groan and clutched onto him as they walked towards the village. “Tell me how I _can’t_ be jealous, Branch. It used to be just you and me, and our snuggles and kisses and the se—”

_”Not in public, Poppy.”_

“—it’s just that... now that Barb’s in the picture, I feel like you just, I dunno, find her more enjoyable... do you not think I’m an interesting person?”

“What? No, Poppy.” Branch spun around to face her, taking her much smaller hands in his. “You’re the most interesting troll I know. And the most beautiful.” He carefully caressed her cheek, and Poppy couldn’t help but smile. “I’d never leave you for anyone else, even if it means losing the world.”

“So you and Barb aren’t a thing?”

“Me and Barb? I don’t really see it happening.” Branch chuckled and pulled her along gently over the soft-padded green grass that tickled her feet and toes. “You and I? We make sense, though.”

“Like how we finish each other’s—”

“—sentences?”

Poppy let out a short giggle and tugged Branch into a hug, tossing her arms around his neck. “We _do_ work. In a weird, telepathic sort of way.”

“You know Barb and I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, right?” Branch said as he wrapped an arm lazily around Poppy’s shoulder. 

“... Yeah, I know that—geez, how could I be so paranoid, I’m practically becoming you. Spending so much time with a Branch is making me into one.”

“Ow, that hurt.” Branch nudged her playfully with a tiny smile and jabbed a finger at his heart. “Right here.”

“You need me to kiss it better?”

“Mhm.”

She did so, leaning in and carefully letting her lips press against his warm, smooth chest. Poppy placed a tender kiss onto his skin before pulling away with a smile. “Better?”

“Yeah.”

They stared at each other for a long while before both of then broke into soft snickers. “Let’s get home, Ms. Jelly.” Branch said as he tugged her along.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Well, you were jealous—can’t I call you Ms. Jelly?”

“... Fine. But nobody else but you.”

“That’s a deal.”


	40. The Handsome Cashier Behind the Counter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A keeps on trying to get the attention of a very boring but hot cashier, B, at a McDonalds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry I disappeared, had some family/school issues I had to deal with. here's RagingCycloneZorch's request! read their fics, they're amazing. also, we hit 40 chapters!

A Mcdonald’s was, for most people, a fairly simple fast-food restaurant to go to and pick up a small, squashed burger or a pack of greasy french fries to skip a meal. Or maybe a drive-thru to go and ask for a cup of coffee because the way to work happened to pass by a Mcdonald’s (the coffee there was relatively horrible compared to Starbucks, which had recently started their winter season right after Halloween).

Poppy Kingsley stepped into the rather-familiar first-floor building of the McDonalds just a couple of minutes away from her house. A wide grin was plastered across her face as if she had just won the lottery (which she hadn't). Humming a quiet verse of _'September Song',_ adding in several whistles, she made her way to the line in front of the cashier, turning her gaze to the display of plastic _Trolls_ dolls behind the glass.

The new Dreamworks movie had recently come out, and although it was a movie for children, she absolutely loved everything about it. Some people called her immature, others called her childish, and others, to fairly put it, simply called her cute. And if being 'childish, immature, and cute' meant she liked kids' movies, there was no reason for her _not_ to like Happy Meals.

Yes, yes, she knew that Happy Meals were also for children—but she could never abandon her precious collection of McDonald toys displayed neatly on her windowsill, worth more than five years of collecting. Poppy Kingsley couldn't give up now, she was two away from ninety. 

Another reason why she came to McDonald’s so often was to watch the little children play on the slides of the inner playground inside the restaurant—it was a little cramped, yes, but it somehow fit—and every time she went there for a Happy Meal, she'd watch happily at a table as young kids shouted and giggled while playing on the small swingsets. It truly made her heart jump with joy. Maybe she would have kids one day. 

When she got to the front of the counter, she turned her head away from the figures on display and to the cashier, only to find a very, very handsome young man looking back at her with the most boring look a person could possibly have—his attractive features completely contradicted the expression depicted on his face.

"Welcome, what can I get for you?"

Geez, even his voice sounded cute yet bored. Again, totally contradictory. Poppy simply continued to stare back at his face, and although she could have sworn she had seen the worker's eyes slightly waver, he didn't dare crack a hint of a smile.

"... ma'am?"

"Oh." She shook her head to snap out of her small trance and put on a teeth-rotting-sweet smile. "A Happy Meal, please."

"Does that complete your order?”

"Yeah, pretty much.”

"For here or to go?"

"For here.”

He gave her a rather strange look with a glint of an eye before tapping buttons rapidly on the cash register—and Poppy took this short moment to admire the young man's face. He had the kind of face that stopped you in your tracks. He seemed to be a fair few inches taller than her, which she immediately liked. He had tousled raven-black hair, which was thick and lustrous. His eyes were a mesmerizing deep ocean blue. His face was strong and defined, his features molded from granite. He had dark eyebrows that matched his hair, which sloped downwards in a serious expression as he stared down at the cash register with utmost boredom. He had smooth flawless skin, which was like a sheet of well-done cloth. He had a high-bridged nose that was among his two eyes. His soft, sharp lips were very attractive and captivating. She wanted to grab his face and kiss him, before deciding not to do so.

He soon turned back to her. "Three forty-five." 

She reached into her purse and fumbled for her credit card. She handed it to the young employee, and she couldn't help but smile when their thumbs brushed against each other. She didn't know why she was acting so jumpy, but she liked what she was feeling. 

He swiped her card before giving it back to her and handed her the receipt. "Your... Happy Meal will be ready shortly.” And then, after giving her a quick glimpse, turned around and walked away, shouting something at another employee, voice drowned out by the sounds of soda dispensers and patties sizzling on grills. Just like that, the conversation was over. Poppy had to admit that she was a little disappointed. 

Eventually, she received her Happy Meal and found a small, empty booth near the windows. She sat down, facing the counter as she emptied her box of goodies. She squeezed the ketchup out of the packet and ate her fries. She tried to keep herself interested in the two little boys playing underneath the slides, but she kept finding her gaze fixed at that one cashier, peering over to get a glimpse of a certain black-haired worker behind the line of people. She even forgot about the toy.

It soon occurred to her that she had forgotten to order her usual strawberry milkshake—and that she wasn’t really in the mood for a bottle of orange juice. It also occurred to her at that moment that another chance to order at the counter was the opportunity she needed to get another look at that handsome face. She knew she sounded a little off, but it seemed worth it. Without hesitation, she got to her feet, straightened out her dress, and scurried back in line.

“What can I—” As soon as it was her turn, he paused mid-sentence and let out a somewhat irritated sigh. “... didn’t I already take your order, like, what? Five minutes ago?”

“Yes, indeed you did.” She flashed him a wide smile, which he simply returned with a grunt. “But I need my milkshake, so…”

“I thought you said the Happy Meal completed your order.”

“I changed my mind.”

“You obviously just forgot, but whatever.” He droned on. “What kind of milkshake?”

“Uh, can’t you tell?”

He looked her up and down, absorbing the pink hair, the pink shirt, the pink purse, the pink _everything,_ before looking back up at Poppy. “No.”

“Seriously?”

“I started working here literally yesterday.”

“That explains it.” She gave him another smile, again, which he simply returned with a grunt. “My usual is strawberry, thought you ought to know. I come here really often.”

“To order Happy Meals, I suppose.” He mumbled as he tapped in her order.

“Actually, yeah, you’re right.”

“Happy Meals are designed and sold for kids.”

“Bah, that’s what everyone says.” She waved her hand at him. “It’s for the toys, really.”

“Those toys are made for a marketing purpose—to ‘brand’ meals and make children harass their parents to buy one for them.”

“Hey, aren’t you supposed to be promoting the McDonald’s brand? Not demoting it?”

He didn’t respond to that, exhaling heavily through his nose, and looking back at the cash register. “What size?”

“Medium—and extra whipped cream.”

“If I add more whipped cream to what’s already on it, it’ll surely topple over.” He muttered as he looked back at her.

“Come on, don’t be such a stickler!”

“Fine, more whipped cream.” He said, a little more snappish as he squeezed his lips shut into a tight line. “What else?”

She pretended to think for a moment. “Mm, nothing.”

“Good, because you’re holding up the line.” He, again, handed her the receipt and moved back onto his next customer, quickly apologizing for the wait.

About half an hour passed, and people began emptying out of the shop, taking their kids with them—it soon became rather quiet, only a few people and families left behind while they quietly ate their meals at their tables.

Poppy had yet finished her burger, blankly staring at the young worker standing mindlessly at the tabletop, keep on glancing at his wristwatch. His fingers continued to tap on the marble counter. There was only one other person taking their order with another worker a fair distance away from him, and he didn’t really seem interested. The dull look on his face from the beginning still remained, almost etched like solid rock. For some reason, she wanted to see him smile. Maybe just even a little one. Soon, she found herself back at the counter.

“What?”

“You seemed bored.” She leaned against the counter and offered a smile. “Thought I might keep you company.”

“I prefer being alone, thanks.”

“I’ve never seen someone who likes being alone.”

“Congratulations, you’ve just found someone who does.”

“... what got you a job at McDonald’s? Especially around this part of town?”

He mumbled something incoherent under his breath, and Poppy barely caught the words ‘unemployment’ and ‘salary’. “Not that you need to know.” He finished off, glancing back at his watch as if to pass time.

“McDonald’s is the last place I’d think that would have a decent salary.”

“Workers and cashiers represent the place—I’m not really the first person you’d imagine to see at a Starbucks taking your order.” He said. “Maybe someone like you, I don’t know. You seem fit for the job. Excessively talkative.”

“I bet the Starbucks salary is nowhere near the one for McDonald’s.”

“Actually, the average salary per hour for a Starbucks barista is approximately a dollar higher than an hourly salary for a McDonald’s cashier.”

“Learn something new every day, am I right?”

“Sure.”

She peered in to look him in the eye. “... bad day, huh?”

“Kind of.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Stuff.”

She scrunched up her nose a little. “Sucks working here, doesn’t it?”

“And to add insult to injury, my manager for my other job is only giving me half of my salary for this month, and I really need to pay for my grandma’s hospital bills before they cut off her life support because they clearly don’t have enough sympathy. Apparently, money is more important than saving a life.” He scoffed and glared at the countertop, leaving Poppy rather speechless. Noticing her reaction, he looked back up with the slight anger leaving his expression and melting back into an emotionless one. “... I said too much.”

“Sorry.”

He didn’t say anything and blankly glanced down at his wristwatch. “... can I get you anything? My shift ends in ten minutes.”

“Ice cream?” She gave him a hopeful look, pushing herself up against the counter. 

“The machine’s broken.”

She groaned and pouted. “Seriously, is your ice cream machine _always_ broken?”

“I just work here, I’m not the repairman.”

She looked up at the too-familiar menu. “... I’ll settle with an apple pie.”

She was given her apple pie (by the young cashier himself) after paying, warm and crispy and just heated. Stuffing the third receipt that day into her pocket, she didn’t return to her table but instead decided to enjoy her apple pie at the counter. 

“You’re dropping crumbs.”

“You won’t even have to clean it anyway, your shift’s almost over.”

He mumbled something grumpily in response as he watched her eat. “I advise you to eat at a table.”

“What are you, a McDonald’s rulebook?”

She finished her apple pie, her third order, and faced the handsome cashier again, who simply looked away to avoid her eye contact.

“Hey.”

“What?”

“Can I have a hashbrown?” She batted her eyelashes at him playfully, and she could hear him mutter a couple of swear words under his breath before turning back towards the kitchen.

He soon returned with a paper bag, and to Poppy’s pleasure, a nicely-toasted hashbrown and a bunch of ketchup packets (which looked like he had just grabbed a handful and dropped in) inside of it. He slid the receipt across the counter and checked his watch, just as he began stepping away. “Shift’s over.” He said briefly, and before Poppy could stop him and ask for a name, he was gone.

She let out a soft sigh in disappointment and reckoned she would just come back tomorrow, hoping he’d be working again with the same look on his face. 

Poppy picked up the receipt which lay on the counter and was about to stuff it into her pocket when her eye caught something at the back of it—she turned it over to see a messy scrawl on the small scrap of paper that she managed to make out:

name's Branch Woods.

417—577—5059

After reading the writing, she hugged the receipt to her chest as if it were her most treasured possession and immediately hurried out the door—the Happy Meal still lay on the tray as it had been minutes ago, but she couldn’t have cared less.

**Author's Note:**

> **Leave your requests down in the comments section.**
> 
> Modern, hospital, highschool, college AUs, all are fine. Just make sure they aren’t TOO long to write, one request is going to be maximum two chapters long. Just normal oneshots in Troll village are totally fine too, but I prefer a touch of angst or fluff.


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